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TEACHER'S HAND-BOOK 



PSYCHOLOGY 



ON THE BASIS OF THE 
"OUTLINES OF PSYCHOLOGY" 



# 



,/BY 

JAMES SULLY, M. A. 




NEW YORK 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 

I, 3, AND 5 BOND STREET 
1886 



I— 1 



Copyright, 1886, 
By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 




PREFACE. 



The present volume is based on the writer's 
larger work, " The Outlines of Psychology." By 
considerably reducing and simplifying the state- 
ment of scientific principles there presented, and 
expanding the practical applications to the art 
of Education, he hopes he may have succeeded in 
satisfying an increasingly felt want among teachers, 
viz., of an exposition of the elements of Mental 
Science in their bearing on the work of train- 
ing and developing the minds of the young. 

Hampstead, March, 1886. 



AMERICAN NOTE. 

It is proper to say that the author of this book is paid a 
copyright by contract on all its sales ; and that the larger work, 
the " Outlines of Psychology," was published under the same con- 
ditions. Mr. Sully also contributed a volume, several years ago, 
on " Illusions," to the International Scientific Series, an enterprise 
originating in our establishment for the advantage of foreign 
authors, who are paid at the same rates that are customary with 
American authors. 

D. APPLETON & CO. 

New York, April 21, 1886. 



CONTENTS. 



Chapter I. 
PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION. 

, „ . PAGE 

Art and Science i 

Art and Science of Education 4 

Divisions of Educational Science 8 

Psychology and Education . 10 

Chapter II. 

SCOPE AND METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

Scientific Conception of Mind . . 13 

Mind and Body 14 

The Subjective Method 15 

The Objective Method 15 

Both Methods must be combined .16 

Observation of Children's Minds 17 

General Knowledge of Mind 19 

Chapter III. 

MIND AND BODY. 

Connection between Mind and Body 21 

The Nervous System 22 

The Special Organs of Mind 25 

Nature of Nervous Action 26 

Mental Activity and Brain Efficiency 27 

Brain-Activity and Brain-Fatigue 28 

Effects of Brain-Activity on the Organism 29 

Overtaxing the Brain . 29 

Remission and Variation of Brain-Exercise 31 

Differences of Brain-Power 32 



Vl CONTENTS. 

Chapter IV. 
KNOWING, FEELING, AND WILLING. 

PAGE 

Mental Phenomena and Operations 34 

Classification of Mental Operations 34 

Feeling, Knowing, and Willing 35 

Opposition between Knowing, Feeling, and Willing .... 36 

Connection between Knowing, Feeling, and Willing .... 36 

Species of Knowing, Feeling, and Willing : Mental Faculties . . 38 

Primary Intellectual Functions 38 

Individual Differences of Mental Capability 39 

Truths or Laws of Mind 40 

General Conditions of Mental Activity 41 

Conditions of Knowing, Feeling, and Willing ..... 41 

Importance of understanding the Conditions of Mental Activity . . 42 

Chapter V. 

MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

Mental Development defined 45 

Growth of Faculty 47 

Order of Development of Faculties 47 

Unity of Intellectual Development 48 

Growth and Exercise of Faculty 49 

Growth and Retentiveness 50 

Growth and Habit 50 

Grouping of Parts : Laws of Association 51 

Development of Feeling and Willing ....... 52 

Interdependence of Processes 52 

Growth and Development of the Brain 53 

Factors in Development 54 

(A) Internal Factor 54 

(B) External Factor. (1) Natural Environment .... 55 
(2) The Social Environment ....... 55 

Undesigned and Designed Influence of Society 56 

Scheme of Development 57 

Varieties of Development . . . . . . . .57 

Differences of Original Capacity . . , . . . . .58 

The Law of Heredity 59 

Common and Special Heredity 59 

Varieties of External Influence 60 

The Teacher and the Social Environment 62 

Training of the Faculties 63 



CONTENTS. vii 

Chapter VI. 
ATTENTION. 

PAGE 

Place of Attention in Mind 66 

Definition of Attention 66 

Directions of Attention 67 

Effects of Attention 68 

Physiology of Attention 68 

Extent of Attention 69 

On what the Degree of Attention depends 7° 

External and Internal Stimuli 7° 

Non- Voluntary and Voluntary Attention 7° 

Reflex Attention 7 1 

Law of Contrast and Novelty 7 1 

Interest 7 2 

Familiarity and Interest 73 

Transition to Voluntary Attention 74 

Function of the Will in Attention 74 

Growth of Attention : Early Stage 76 

Development of Power of controlling the Attention .... 76 

Attention to the Unimpressive 77 

Resistance to Stimuli 78 

Keeping the Attention fixed 78 

Concentration 79 

Concentration and Intellectual Power 79 

Grasp of Attention 80 

Habits of Attention 81 

Varieties of Attentive Power 81 

Training of the Attention 82 

Chapter VII. 

THE SENSES : SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. 

Definition of Sensation 86 

General and Special Sensibility 87 

Characters of Sensations 88 

The Five Senses 89 

Taste and Smell 89 

Touch 89 

Active Touch 9 2 

Muscular Sense 93 

Hearing 95 

Sight 97 

Attention to Sense-Impressions 99 

Discrimination of Sensation 99 

Identification of Sense-Impressions 99 



viii CONTENTS. 

_ , _ _ . PAGE 

Growth of Sense-Capacity ioo 

Improvement of Sense-Discrimination ioo 

Differences of Sense-Capacity 3:01 

The Training of the Senses 102 

Method of Training 103 

Training of the Several Senses 105 

Chapter VIII. 

THE SENSES: OBSERVATION OF THINGS. 

Definition of Perception 108 

How Percepts are reached 108 

Special Channels of Perception . . . . , . . .110 

Perceptions of Touch m 

Visual Perception 113 

Perception of Form by the Eye 113 

Perception of Distance and Solidity 114 

Intuition of Things . . . . 116 

Perception of our own Body 117 

Observation 118 

Distinct and Accurate Observation 119 

Development of Perceptual Power 121 

Training of the Observing Powers 124 

Exercise in observing Form 125 

The Object-Lesson 127 

Chapter IX. 
MENTAL REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY. 

Retention and Reproduction . 131 

Reproduction and Representation 132 

Conditions of Reproduction 133 

(A) Depth of Impression : Attention and Retention . . . 134 
Repetition and Retention ....... 135 

(B) Association of Impression 137 

Different Kinds of Association 13 8 

(I) Association by Contiguity 13 8 

Strength of Associative Cohesion 14° 

On what Suggestive Force depends 14° 

Trains of Images *4 2 

Verbal Associations. , . . . 143 

(II) Association by Similarity 144 

(III) Association by Contrast 145 

Complex Associations 146 

Co-operation of Associations 146 

Obstructive Associations 147 

Active Reproduction : Recollection . 147 



CONTENTS. i x 

Chapter X. 
MEMORY (continued). 

PAGE 

Memory and its Degrees 15° 

Beginnings and Growth of Memory ......... 151 

Repetition of Experience 152 

New Experiences 153 

How Memory Improves 153 

Causes of Growth of Memory 154 

Varieties of Memory, General and Special 155 

Causes of Difference 157 

Training of the Memory 159 

(a) Exercise in Acquisition 162 

Learning by Heart 165 

Art of Mnemonics 167 

(b) Exercise in Recalling 169 

Subjects which exercise the Memory 170 

Educational Value of Memory 171 

Chapter XI. 

CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

Reproductive and Constructive Imagination ...... 174 

The Constructive'Process ......... 174 

Various Forms of Construction . „ 176 

(A) Intellectual Imagination . 176 

(1) Imagination and Acquisition 176 

Reducing the Abstract to the Concrete 177 

(2) Imagination and Discovery 178 

(B) Practical Contrivance . .178 

(C) ^Esthetic Imagination 179 

Risks of Uncontrolled Imagination 180 

Intellectual Value of Imagination 181 

Development of Imagination 182 

Germ of Imagination 182 

Children's Fancy 183 

Imagination brought under Control 184 

Later Growth of Imagination 185 

Varieties of Imaginative Power ........ 186 

Training of the Imagination 187 

Twofold Direction of Imaginative Training 187 

(a) Restraining Fancy 188 

(b) Cultivating the Imagination 189 

Exercise of the Imagination in Teaching ...... 193 

Exercise of Invention 195 



X CONTENTS. 

Chapter XII. 
ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. 

PAGE 

Apprehension and Comprehension 199 

Stages of Thinking 200 

The General Notion or Concept 200 

How Concepts are formed ......... 201 

(A) Comparison 201 

Conditions of Comparison 202 

(B) Abstraction 204 

(C) Generalization 205 

Conception and Naming 205 

Discovering the Meaning of Words 206 

Degrees of Abstraction 207 

Marking off Single Qualities ......... 207 

Varieties of Concepts 208 

Notions which involve Synthesis 208 

(A) Ideas of Magnitude and Number 209 

(B) Notions of Geometry, etc. 210 

Moral Ideas : Idea of Self 211 

Notions of Others 212 

Conception and Discrimination 213 

Classification 214 

Chapter XIII. 
ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION (continued). 

Imperfection and Perfection of Notions 216 

Distinctness of Concepts 216 

Causes of Indistinctness of Concepts 217 

Accuracy of Concepts 218 

(A) Inaccurate Notions depending on Imperfect Abstraction . . 219 

(B) Inaccurate Notions depending on Loss of Elements . . 220 

On Revising our Notions 221 

Relation of Conception to Imagination 221 

On Defining Notions 222 

Growth of Conceptual Power 224 

Early Notions 224 

Growth of Conception and of Discrimination 225 

Formation of more Abstract Conceptions 226 

Use of Adjectives 227 

Period of Fuller Development 228 

How Progress in Conceptual Power is to be measured .... 229 

Varieties of Conceptual Power ........ 229 

Training the Power of Abstraction 230 

Exercise in Classing Objects 231 

Explaining Meaning of Words 235 



CONTENTS. xi 

PAGE 

Controlling the Child's Use of Words 236 

Order of taking up Abstract Studies 237 

Chapter XIV. 
JUDGING AND REASONING. 

Nature of Judgment 239 

Relation of Concept to Judgment 241 

Process of Judging 242 

Affirmation and Negation 244 

Belief and Doubt 245 

Extent of Judgment 245 

Perfection of Judgments : Clearness 246 

Accuracy of Judgment 247 

Other Merits of Judgment 248 

Inference and Reasoning 249 

Relation of Judging to Reasoning 251 

Inductive and Deductive Reasoning 252 

(A) Nature of Inductive Reasoning 252 

Spontaneous Induction 253 

Regulated Induction 254 

Induction and Causation 254 

Children's Idea of Cause 254 

Natural Reasoning about Causes 255 

Regulated Reasoning about Causes 257 

Chapter XV. 

JUDGING AND REASONING (continued). 

Deductive Reasoning 259 

Application of Principles and Explanations 260 

Regulated Deduction 261 

Other Forms of Reasoning : Analogy 262 

Development of Powers of Judging and Reasoning . . . .263 

Growth of Reasoning Power 266 

First Reasonings about Cause 266 

Varieties of Power of Judging and Reasoning 268 

Training the Faculty of Judgment 270 

Training of the Reasoning Powers 272 

Subjects which exercise the Reasoning Faculty 274 

Method in Teaching 275 

Chapter XVI. 

THE FEELINGS: NATURE OF FEELING. 

Feeling defined 279 

The Diffusion and Effects of Feeling 280 



xii CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Pleasure and Pain 283 

Effects of Pleasure and Pain 284 

Monotony and Change 285 

Accommodation to Surroundings 286 

Varieties of Pleasure and Pain 288 

(A) Sense-Feelings 288 

(B) The Emotions 289 

Development of Emotion 289 

Association of Feeling 291 

Habits of Feeling 292 

Order of Development of the Emotions 293 

Characteristics of Children's Feelings 294 

The Education of the Feelings 297 

(a) Repression of Feeling 298 

(b) Stimulation of Emotion 299 

Chapter XVII. 
THE EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL FEELINGS. 

(A) Egoistic Feelings : Fear 303 

Anger, Antipathy 3°7 

Love of Activity and of Power 311 

Feeling of Rivalry 3*5 

Love of Approbation and Self-Esteem ..... 318 

(B) Social Feelings : Love and Respect 321 

Sympathy 322 

Conditions of Sympathy 324 

Uses of Sympathy 325 

Chapter XVIII. 
THE HIGHER SENTIMENTS. 

The Intellectual Sentiment 329 

Feeling of Ignorance and Wonder . . 329 

Pleasure of Gaining Knowledge 330 

Children's Curiosity 332 

Growth of Intellectual Feeling 333 

The ^Esthetic Sentiment 335 

Elements of ^Esthetic Pleasure . . 335 

^Esthetic Judgment : Taste 336 

Standard of Taste 337 

Growth of vEsthetic Faculty 337 

The Education of Taste 340 

Ethical or Moral Sentiment 344 

Moral Feeling and Moral Judgment „ 34^ 

The Moral Standard 347 



CONTENTS. xiii 

PAGE 

Growth of the Moral Sentiment 347 

Development of Self-judging Conscience 350 

The Training of the Moral Faculty 351 

Chapter XIX. 

THE WILL : VOLUNTARY MOVEMENT. 

Definition of Willing 356 

Willing, Knowing, and Feeling 356 

Desire, the Basis of Willing 357 

Desire and Activity 358 

Desiring and Willing 359 

Development of Willing 359 

Instinctive Factor in Volition 360 

Effects of Experience and of Exercise ....... 360 

Beginnings of Movement 361 

Transition to Voluntary Movement 362 

Effects of Exercise 363 

Imitation 364 

Excitation of Movement by Command 367" 

Internal Command of Movement 368 

- Movement and Habit 370 

.Strength of Habit 371 

Fixity and Plasticity of Movement ' . . . 372 

Training of Will and the Active Organs 373 

Chapter XX. 
MORAL ACTION: CHARACTER. 

(a) Influence of Growing Intelligence 378 

(b) Influence of Growth of Feeling 379 

Complex Action 380 

Deliberation and Choice 380 

Resolution and Perseverance 381 

Self-Control 383 

Stages of Self-Control 383 

Control of the Feelings 3S4 

Control of the Thoughts 3S5 

Different Forms of Self-Control 386 

Habit and Conduct 387 

Moral Habits 388 

Character 389 

External Control of the Will 390 

Authority and Obedience 391 

The Ends and Grounds of Early Discipline 392 

Conditions of Moral Discipline 394 



xiv CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Punishment 395 

Proportioning of Punishment 397 

Reward, Encouragement 398 

Development of Free-will 400 

Discipline of the Home and of the School 401 



TEACHER'S HANDBOOK 



PSYCHOLOGY 



CHAPTER I. 

PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION. 

Art and Science. — The doing of anything presup- 
poses some knowledge, for every action is the employment 
of certain agencies which stand in the relation of means to 
our particular end or object of desire ; and we could not 
select and make use of these means unless we knew be- 
forehand that they were fitted to bring about the fulfill- 
ment of our desire. This is evident even in the case of 
simple actions. Thus, if after sitting reading for some time 
and becoming cold I go out and take a brisk walk, it is 
because I know that by so doing I am certain to recover 
warmth. And it is still more manifest in the case of com- 
plex actions. The action of an engineer, of a surgeon, or 
of a statesman, involves a quantity of knowledge of vari- 
ous kinds. 

The knowledge which is thus serviceable for doing 
things or for practice is of two sorts. Thus, the knowl- 
edge implied in the above example, that muscular exercise 
promotes bodily warmth, may be knowledge that I have 
gathered from my own experience aided by what others 
have told me ; or it may have been obtained from a study 
of the bodily organism and its functions, and of the effects 
of muscular activity on the circulation, etc. The first kind 
of knowledge, being derived from what may be called un- 
1 



2 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION. 

revised experience and observation, is called empirical j the 
second kind, being the outcome of those processes of re- 
vision and extension of every-day empirical knowledge 
which make up the work of science, is named scientific. 

The chief differences between empirical and scientific 
knowledge are the following: (i) The former is based on 
a narrow range of observation, and on observation which 
is apt to be loose and inexact ; the latter, on a wide survey 
of facts and on accurate processes of observation and ex- 
periment. (2) The former consists of propositions which 
have only a limited scope, and are never, strictly speaking, 
universally true ; the latter is made up of propositions of 
wide comprehensiveness, and of universal validity, known 
as principles or laws. (3) Asa result of this the conclusions 
deduced from empirical knowledge are precarious, whereas 
the conclusions properly drawn from scientific principles 
are perfectly trustworthy. 

We call any department of practice an art when the 
actions involved are of sufficient complexity and difficulty 
to demand special study, and to offer scope for individual 
skill. Thus, we talk now of an art of cooking, because 
with our advanced civilization the preparation of food has 
become so elaborate a process as to call for special prepa- 
ration or training. 

Every art requires a certain amount and variety of 
knowledge. In the early stages of development the vari- 
ous arts were carried on by help of empirical knowledge. 
Thus, in agriculture men sowed certain crops rather than 
others in given soils, because they and their predecessors 
had found out from experience that these were the best 
fitted. Similarly in medicine, men resorted at first to par- 
ticular remedies in particular diseases, because their prac- 
tical experience had taught them the utility of so doing. 

Such guidance from empirical sources was found to be 
insufficient. Workers in the various departments of art 
asked for a deeper knowledge of the agencies they em- 



ART AND SCIENCE. 3 

ployed and the processes they carried out, and so they 
had recourse to science. Thus the art of agriculture has 
profited from the sciences of chemistry and botany, and 
the art of medicine from the sciences of anatomy and 
physiology. Indeed, the demand for a fuller and more 
exact knowledge on the part of practical workers has been 
an important stimulus to the development of the sciences. 

The reason of this is plain from what has been said 
above. The characteristic imperfections of empirical 
knowledge become more and more manifest as an art de- 
velops. And these defects are the more conspicuous in 
the case of the more complex arts, and particularly those 
which have to do with living things. This is clearly illus- 
trated in the case of medicine. The organic processes 
going on in the human body are so numerous and compli- 
cated, there are so many variable circumstances which 
help to modify a disease in different cases, and so to inter- 
fere with a simple uniform effect of any given remedial 
agency, that the generalizations based on practical experi- 
ence are continually proving themselves to be inadequate 
and precarious. The great modern improvements in the 
art of healing have been the direct outcome of the growth 
of the sciences underlying the art. 

Hence we have come to employ in the case of all the 
more complex and intricate departments of practice the 
expression " science and art." Thus we talk of the sci- 
ence and art of engineering, of agriculture, and even of 
politics. To this pair of correlated terms there corre- 
sponds the equally familiar couple, " theory and practice." 
For the term theory in this connection refers more par- 
ticularly to the principles or truths of a scientific rank 
which stand at the foundation of the art. 

It is important to understand the precise place and 
function of these scientific principles in their relation to 
practice. First of all, then, they do not take the place of 
empirical generalizations. These are at first, as already 



4 



PS YCHOLOG Y AND ED UCA TION. 



remarked, the only knowledge by which an art can guide 
itself ; and they always continue to form a valuable part 
of every theory of a practical subject. Science alone 
would never have taught men the best way to till the 
ground, to obtain metal from the soil, or to carry out any 
other set of industrial operations. The function of scien- 
tific principles is to supplement, interpret, and, where 
necessary, correct empirical knowledge. In this way the 
teaching of practical experience is rendered more precise 
and certain. 

But science renders to art a yet greater service than 
this. It greatly enlarges the range of practical discovery. 
When once we have our scientific principles we can de- 
duce practical conclusions from these, and thus anticipate 
the slow and uncertain progress of empirical discovery. 
Thus, in the art of surgery, the modern method of treating 
wounds is largely the direct outcome of scientific reflec- 
tion on the nature of wounds and of the natural process 
of healing. Such deductions must, of course, be verified 
by actual experiment before they can take their place 
among the assured body of knowledge making up the 
theory of the subject. So that here, too, the theory of a 
practical operation is constituted by two factors — an em- 
pirical and a scientific. The only difference between this 
case and the first is that here the work of science precedes 
instead of following the work of experience, and, in place 
of having to supplement and interpret this, has to be sup- 
plemented and verified by it. 

Art and Science of Education. — The above re- 
marks may help us to understand the fact that the art of 
education is now seeking to ground itself on scientific 
truths or principles. 

As an art, education aims at the realization of a par- 
ticular end. This end must, of course, be assumed to be 
clearly defined before we can repair to science to ascertain 
what agencies we can best employ in order to compass it. 



ART AND SCIENCE OF EDUCATION. 5 

At first sight, however, it might seem that this condition 
is not satisfied. Writers have discussed at length what the 
true end of education is, and they have proposed very dif- 
ferent definitions of the matter. 

The reason of this uncertainty is apparent. Educa- 
tion, unlike such an art as cookery, has a large and com- 
prehensive object, viz., to help to mold and fashion in cer- 
tain definite ways no less complex a thing than a human 
being, with his various physical, intellectual, and moral 
capabilities, so as to fit him to fulfill his highest function 
and destiny. And to ascertain what the rightly fashioned 
man is like, and wherein consists his true work and serv- 
ice, is a problem of much difficulty. In truth, we can 
only satisfactorily settle this when we have determined the 
supreme ends of human action — in other words, the highest 
good of man. It is the province of the great practical 
science of ethics to ascertain this for us ; and the teachers 
of this science have from ancient times been divided into 
opposed schools. 

We need not, however, wait for the resolution of these 
grave and difficult problems. Men are to a large extent 
practically agreed as to what is right and wrong, though 
they have not settled the theoretic basis of these distinc- 
tions. In like manner educators are practically at one 
as to the objects they aim at. In spite of ethical and 
theological differences, we agree to say that education 
seeks, by social stimulus, guidance, and control, to develop 
the natural powers of the child, so as to render him able 
and disposed to lead a healthy, happy, and morally worthy 
life. 

This is offered only as a rough approximation to a definition which 
may be generally accepted. In filling out this idea, different thinkers 
would no doubt diverge considerably, according to their conception of 
man's nature and destiny. Thus, to the firm believer in the Christian 
doctrine of a future life it must appear of the first consequence to de- 
velop those religious faculties and emotions the exercise of which con- 
stitutes man's highest function and the direct preparation for the larger 



6 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION. 

and enduring after-life. But, while fully recognizing the truth that 
religious belief must throughout profoundly color a man's conception 
of the scope of education and the relative value of its several parts, one 
may assume that in practice educators of widely unlike theological 
views agree as to the main lines of education in its distinctly human 
aspects. 

A word or two as to the scope of our definition. In the first place, 
we take education as aiming at the formation of faculty, rather than 
at the giving of information or the communication of knowledge. In 
other words, education, as the etymology of the word tells us (Lat, 
educere), has to do with drawing out, i. e., developing the mind and its 
various activities, and not merely with putting something into the mind. 
This distinction is often spoken of as that between education and in- 
struction. But the word instruction (Lat., instruere) implies the orderly 
putting together of the materials of knowledge so as to form a structure. 
And, taken in this sense, there is no fundamental opposition between 
the two. The faculties of the intelligence can only be called forth and 
strengthened in the processes of gaining knowledge, and thus " educa- 
tion attains its end through instruction." The teacher may, however, 
fix his mind more on the educative result of his processes, viz., the 
ability to observe and reason about facts in the future, or on the im- 
mediate gain of school exercises in the shape of useful knowledge. And 
this difference in the teacher's point of view will deeply affect his ideas 
as to proper subjects to be taught, and even as to the best method of 
teaching them. 

Finally, it is to be noted that our definition does not stop short at 
the intellectual side of the mind, but includes the other sides as well. 
The supposition that education is only concerned with the intellectual 
faculties probably has its source in the common error that the educator 
and the schoolmaster are synonymous terms, whereas in reality the 
latter is only one among many educators. And even the schoolmaster 
will err if he thinks his business ends with a mere intellectual discipline 
of his pupils. 

But, while our definition is thus a wide one, it is less wide than 
that of some thinkers, e. g., J. S. Mill, who included under education 
the influence of external circumstances generally. Education is to us 
essentially the action of other human beings on the child, and this only 
so far as it is conscious and designed. Moreover, in its higher forms, 
education implies a systematic application of external forces and agen- 
cies according to a definite plan and an orderly method.* 

* On the difference between education and instruction, see Prof. 
Payne's " Lectures on the Science and Art of Education," Lecture I, 



ART AND SCIENCE OF EDUCATION. y 

As soon as we approximate to a definition of educa- 
tion, as in the above, we see that merely empirical knowl- 
edge will carry us but a little way in realizing our object. 
For the human nature which it is our special business to 
develop is plainly the most complex of all living things. 
It is at once something material and something mental ; 
and this mental part, again, is exceedingly composite in its 
constitution, being made up of a number of intellectual 
and moral capabilities and dispositions. Nor is this all ; 
we find that these several physical and mental powers are 
joined together and interact upon one another in a very 
intricate and puzzling manner. Closely connected with 
this peculiar complexity of the child's nature, we have its 
great variability, showing itself in the unique constitution 
or idiosyncrasy of each individual child. Owing to these 
circumstances, mere experience could never have led men 
far on the right educational path. And as a matter of 
history we know that the older methods of educating the 
young were faulty, and in some respects radically wrong, 
just because they were not arrived at by aid of a profound 
and scientific study of child-nature. Thus, to take an 
obvious instance, the cardinal error of making so much of 
intellectual instruction dry and unpalatable arose out of 
ignorance of the elementary truth of human nature, that 
the intellectual faculties are only fully aroused to activity 
under the stimulus of feeling in the shape of interest. 
That this was the real source of the blunder is proved by 
the fact that the modern educational reformers, who have 
set themselves to correct this and other defects of the 
older system, were guided to these reforms by a deeper 
study of children's minds. This remark applies alike to 
the ideas of practical workers, as Pestalozzi, and of pure 
theorists, as Locke.* 

p. 18, etc. On some alternative definitions of education, see Dr. Bain's 
" Education as a Science," chap. i. 

* On the effects of an ignorance of psychology in rendering con- 



8 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION. 

What is really wanted as the groundwork of education 
is a body of well-ascertained truths respecting the funda- 
mental properties of the human being, from which the 
right and sound methods of training the young may be 
seen to follow as conclusions. This theoretic basis will 
consist of facts and laws relating to the child's physical 
and mental organization, its various susceptibilities, its 
ways of reacting on external agents and influences, and 
the manner in which it develops. And these universal 
truths must be supplied by some science or sciences. 

Divisions of Educational Science.— These prin- 
ciples are derived in the main from two sciences : physi- 
ology, or the science which treats of the bodily organism, 
its several structures and functions, and psychology, or 
mental science which deals with the mind, its several fac- 
ulties and their mode of operation. The former princi- 
ples, including certain applications of physiological science 
known as hygiene, underlie what is now called physical 
education, the training of the bodily powers and the fur- 
therance of health. The latter form the basis of mental 
— i. e., intellectual and moral — training. 

Within the limits of mental education we have certain 
subdivisions. Popularly we distinguish between intellect- 
ual and moral education ; but this twofold division is in- 
adequate. As we shall see by and by, the mind presents 
three well-marked and fundamental departments — viz., 
the intellect, the emotions, and the will. The develop- 
ment of it on any one of these three sides is to a certain 
extent a separate work, calling for its own particular mode 
of exercise, and, one may add, its own peculiar fitness in 
the teacher. These three directions of training are dis- 
tinguishable as intellectual, aesthetic, and moral education. 
They correspond to the three great ends: (i) the logical 
end of truth, (2) the aesthetic end of beauty, and (3) the 

temporary educational practices faulty and even vicious, see Herbert 
Spencer, " Education," chap, i, p. 24, and following. 



DIVISIONS OF EDUCATIONAL SCIENCE. g 

ethical end of virtue. The first aims at building up the 
fabric of knowledge, and developing the faculties by which 
knowledge is reached ; the second, at such a cultivation of 
the feelings as will best subserve the end of a pleasurable 
existence, and in particular the appreciation and enjoy- 
ment of beauty in nature and art ; and the third, at devel- 
oping the will and forming the character. 

In giving this assistance to education, psychology is 
supplemented by three sciences which are not purely 
theoretical like it, but have a more practical character, 
since they have as their special province to regulate the 
activity of the mind on each of these three sides. These 
are logic, which regulates our intellectual operations by 
supplying us with rules for correct reasoning ; aesthetics, 
which aims at giving us a standard of beauty and criteria 
by which we may judge of its existence in any instance ; 
and ethics, which fixes the ultimate standard of right and 
wrong, and determines what are the several duties and 
virtues. 

The scientific groundwork of the art of education may 
be made clear by the following diagram : 



Physical. 



n 



Fig. i. 

Education. 



Mental. 



n 



Physiology 


Psychology 


together with 
Hygiene. 


together with 


Logic, 




.(Esthetics, 




and Ethics. 



IO PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION. 

Psychology and Education. — Of the sciences that 
contribute principles to education, psychology is plainly 
the most important. The teacher is most directly con- 
cerned with the development of the child's mind, and con- 
siders his bodily organism mainly in its connection with 
mental efficiency. 

Again, since the teacher is commonly supposed to have 
as his principal object the exercise of certain of the intel- 
lectual faculties — viz., those employed in the acquisition 
and retention of knowledge — it is clear that some portions 
of psychology will be of special value to him. Thus the 
laws governing the processes of acquiring and reproduc- 
ing knowledge will have a peculiarly direct bearing on 
the teacher's work. Such truths of mental science would 
seem to be specially fitted to supply principles of education. 

At the same time, it is clearly impracticable to select 
certain portions of psychology as exclusively applying to 
education. For, first of all, even allowing that education 
need busy itself only with instruction, or the communica- 
tion of so much useful knowledge, it may be said that the 
teacher still needs to study other faculties than the acquis- 
itive ; for psychology teaches us that no power of the mind 
works in perfect isolation. Thus, it has come to be recog- 
nized that, in order that a child should gain clear knowl- 
edge through words, his observing faculties must have 
undergone a certain discipline, so that his mind may have 
been stored with distinct and easily reproducible images 
of objects in his actual surroundings. Hence, one reason 
for including the training of the senses in modern systems 
of education. More than this, it will be found that there 
can be no adequate exercise of the intellect which does 
not take account of the feelings, in the shape of interest 
and a love of learning. 

It follows, then, that the teacher needs some general 
acquaintance with the principles of psychology, even 
though he is aiming merely at the most rapid and effect- 



ADVANTAGE TO THE TEACHER. u 

ive method of storing the mind with knowledge. But it 
may be assumed that few teachers now limit their efforts 
to this object. Education, in its true sense, is commonly 
aimed at by intelligent teachers in the process of instruc- 
tion itself, which thus becomes, in a measure at least, a 
means to an end beyond itself. And some attention is 
paid, as time allows and opportunity suggests, to the cul- 
tivation of the feelings and the formation of good moral 
dispositions and habits. And this being so, a clear appre- 
hension of the different sides of mind, and of the way in 
which they interact one on another, may be said to be of 
immediate utility to the teacher. In other words, the 
principles of education must be derived from the element- 
ary truths of psychology taken as a whole. 

It follows, from what was said above concerning the 
relation of science to art, that there are two principal uses 
of mental science to the teacher : (i) An accurate ac- 
quaintance with the mental faculties, which are the mate- 
rial that the educator has to operate on and mold into 
shape, will supply him with a criterion or touchstone by 
which he may test the soundness of existing rules and 
practices in education. (2) The knowledge so gained 
may be made to directly suggest better educational rules 
than those in vogue, and so to promote the further devel- 
opment of the art. 

No doubt we may expect too much from a study of 
mental science. We may err by supposing that scientific 
knowledge will render practical or empirical knowledge 
superfluous, instead of merely supplementing and correct- 
ing it. And it may be well to remember, therefore, that, 
as a science, psychology can only tell us what are the gen- 
eral characters of mind, and point out the best way of 
dealing with it in its general features and broad outlines ; 
it can not acquaint us with the manifold diversities of in- 
telligence and disposition, or suggest the right modifica- 
tions of our educational processes to suit these variations. 



12 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION. 

Accordingly, the educator will always need to supplement 
his general study of mind by a careful observation of the 
individual minds which he is called upon to deal with, so 
as to properly vary and adapt his methods of teaching and 
disciplining. 

Even here, however, the student of psychology will 
find his scientific knowledge useful. For the work of get- 
ting to know an individual .child is one not only of obser- 
vation but of interpretation. And in the performance of 
this a general acquaintance with mind will materially 
assist. It is evident, indeed, that we never understand 
an individual thing thoroughly except in the light of gen- 
eral knowledge. A botanist only comprehends a new 
plant when he classifies it — i. e., refers it to a general de- 
scription or head, and accounts for it by help of general 
botanical principles. Similarly we only understand a par- 
ticular child when we bring to bear on it a previous gen- 
eral knowledge of child and human nature. And while 
psychological knowledge thus aids us in reading the indi- 
vidual characters of children, it assists us further in deter- 
mining the proper modifications of our educational meth- 
ods to suit these variations. Experience is without doubt 
our main guide here. What kind of punishment, for 
example, will be most efficacious and salutary for boys of 
a particular temperament, etc., is a problem which must 
be solved to a large extent by the results of actual trial. 
Still, our scientific principles are a valuable supplementary 
aid here also, not only by helping us to understand the 
different results of our educational treatment in different 
cases, but also by assisting us in lighting upon the required 

modifications. 

APPENDIX. 

On the scope and aim of education and its special relation to psy- 
chology, the student may consult : Prof. Payne's " Lectures on the Sci- 
ence and Art of Education," Lectures I and II ; Dr. Bain's " Education 
as a Science," chap, i; Th. Waitz's "Allgemeine Padagogik," Ein- 
leitung, § I. 



CHAPTER II. 

SCOPE AND METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

Psychology, or mental science, may be defined as our 
general knowledge of mind, and more particularly the 
human mind, reduced to an exact and systematic form. 
In order to understand this definition, we must try to give 
precision to the term mind. 

Scientific Conception of Mind. — We commonly 
distinguish between a mind as a unity or substance and 
the several manifestations or phenomena of this substance. 
In every-day discourse, indeed, we talk of our own and 
others' minds as the subjects of various feelings, ideas, etc. 
Psychology as a science does not inquire into the nature 
of mind in itself, or as a substance, but confines itself to 
the study of its several states or operations. It is the 
different forms of activity of mind that we can observe in 
our actual mental experience or mental life that constitute 
the proper subject-matter of our science. And it is plain 
that this knowledge of the mind in actual operation, and 
of the various ways in which it manifests itself and works, 
is what we need for practical guidance, whether of our 
own or of others' minds. 

How, now, shall we mark off these mental facts from 
other phenomena which form the subject-matter of the 
physical sciences ? We can not define such states of mind 
by resolving them into something simpler. They have 
nothing in common beyond the fact of being mental states. 



I 4 SCOPE AND METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

Hence, we can only use some equivalent phrase, as when 
we say that a mental phenomenon is a fact of our con- 
scious experience or conscious life. Or, again, we may 
enumerate the chief varieties of these mental phenomena, 
and say that mind is the sum of our processes of knowing, 
our feelings of pleasure and pain, and our voluntary do- 
ings. Popularly, mind is apt to be identified with know- 
ing or intelligence. A man of mind is a man of intellect. 
But though intelligence is perhaps the most important 
part of mind, it is not the whole. In mental science we 
must reckon the sensation of pain arising from a bruise as 
a fact of mind. Or, finally, we may set mind in antithesis 
to what is not mind. Mind is non-material, has no exist- 
ence in space as material bodies have. We can not touch 
a thought or a feeling, and one feeling does not lie outside 
of another in space. These phenomena occur in time only. 
Mind is thus the inner smaller world (mikrokosm) as distin- 
guished from the external and larger world (makrokosm). 
Mind and Body. — While it is important thus to set 
mind in strong opposition to material things, we must keep 
in view the close connection between the two. What we 
call a human being is made up of a bodily organism and 
a mind. Our personality or " self " is a mind connected 
with or embodied in a material framework. As we shall 
see presently, all mental processes or operations are con- 
nected with actions of the nervous system. The most 
abstract thought is accompanied by some mode of activity 
in the brain-centers. Hence, while we must be careful 
not to confuse the mental and the material, the psychical 
and the physical, as though they were of the same kind 
(homogeneous), we can not exclude the latter from view 
in dealing with mind. We must always think of mind as 
attended by, and, in some inexplicable way, related to, the 
living organism, and more particularly the nervous system 
and its actions. And this recognition of this close and 
constant companionship with body is a matter of great 



HOW WE OBSERVE AND STUDY MIND. 15 

practical moment in seeking to train and develop the 
mind. 

The Subjective Method.— There are two distinct 
ways of knowing mind. The first is the direct, internal, 
or subjective way.* By this method we direct attention to 
what is going on in our own mind at the time of its oc- 
currence, or afterward. We have the power of turning 
the attention inward on the phenomena of mind. Thus 
we can attend to a particular feeling, say emulation or 
sympathy, in order to see what its nature is, of what ele- 
mentary parts it consists, and how it is affected by the 
circumstances of the moment. This method of internal 
or subjective observation is known as introspection 
("looking within "). 

The Objective Method. — In the second place, we 
may study mental phenomena not only in our own indi- 
vidual mind, but as they present themselves externally 
in other minds. This is the indirect, external, or object- 
ive way of studying mental phenomena. Thus we note 
the manifestations of others' feelings in looks, gestures, 
etc. We arrive at a knowledge of their thoughts by their 
speech, and observe their inclinations and motives by 
noting their actions. 

This objective observation embraces not only the 
mental phenomena of the individuals who are personally 
known to us, old and young, but those of others of whom 
we hear or read in biography, etc. Also it includes the 
study of minds in masses or aggregates, as they present 
themselves in national sentiments and actions, and in the 
events of history. It includes too a comparative study of 
mind by observing its agreements and differences among 

* "Subject" means the mind as knowing something, or as affected 
(pleasurably or painfully) by a thing. "Object" is that which is 
known, or which affects the mind in a certain way. The house I see, 
the flower I admire, are objects to me, who am the subject that sees 
and admires them. 



1 6 SCOPE AND METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

different races, and even among different grades of ani- 
mal life. The study of the simpler phases of mind 
in the child, in backward and uncivilized races, and in 
the lower animals, is especially valuable for understanding 
the growth of the mature or fully developed human mind. 

Both Methods must be combined. — Scientific 
knowledge is characterized by certainty, exactness, and 
generality. We must observe carefully so as to make 
sure of our facts, and to note precisely what is present. 
And we must go on from a knowledge of the particular 
to a knowledge of the general. From this rough defini- 
tion of what is meant by scientific knowledge we may 
easily see that neither the internal nor the external 
method is complete without the other. To begin with : 
since we only directly observe what is passing in our own 
individual mind, some amount of introspection is the first 
condition of all certain and accurate knowledge of mental 
states. To try to discover mental phenomena and their 
laws solely by watching the external signs and effects of 
others' thoughts, feelings, and volitions, would plainly be 
absurd. For these external manifestations are in them- 
selves as empty of meaning as words in an unknown 
tongue, and only receive their meaning by a reference to 
what we ourselves have thought and felt. On the other 
hand, an exclusive attention to the contents of our indi- 
vidual mind would never give us a general knowledge of 
mind. In order to eliminate the effects of individuality, 
we must at every step compare our own modes of think- 
ing and feeling with those of other minds ; and the wider 
the area included in our comparison, the sounder are our 
generalizations likely to be. 

Each of these ways of studying mind has its character- 
istic difficulties. To attend closely to the events of our 
mental life presupposes a certain power of " abstraction." 
It requires at first a considerable effort to withdraw the 
attention from the more striking events of the external 



OBSERVATION OF CHILDREN'S MINDS. 



17 



world, the sights and sounds that surround us, and to 
keep it fixed on the comparatively obscure events of the 
inner world. Even in the case of the trained psychologist 
the work is always attended with a peculiar difficulty. On 
the other hand, there is a serious danger in reading the 
minds of others, due to an excess of the propensity to 
project our own modes of thinking and feeling into them. 
This danger increases with the remoteness of the mind we 
are observing from our own. To apprehend, for example, 
the sentiments and convictions of an ancient Roman, or 
of an uncivilized African, is a very delicate operation. It 
implies close attention to the differences as well as the 
similarities of external manifestation, also an effort of 
imagination by which, though starting from some remem- 
bered experiences of our own, we feel our way into a new 
set of circumstances, new experiences, and a new set of 
mental habits. 

Observation of Children's Minds. — These diffi- 
culties are strikingly illustrated in the attempt to note and 
interpret the external manifestations of children's minds. 
This observation is of the greatest consequence to psy- 
chologists in general, for a sound knowledge of the early 
manifestations of mind is a necessary preliminary to a sci- 
entific explanation of its later developments. And to the 
educator this knowledge constitutes the most important 
department of the science of mind. Yet this is perhaps 
one of the most difficult branches of psychological inquiry. 

The reason of this can easily be seen. Children have 
their own characteristic ways of feeling, of regarding 
things, of judging as to truth, and so forth. And, al- 
though the adult observer of children has himself been a 
child, he is unable, except in rare cases, to recall his own 
childish experiences with any distinctness. How many of 
us are really able to recollect the wonderings, the terrors, 
the grotesque fancies of our first years ? And then chil- 
dren are apt to be misunderstood because they have to 



1 8 SCOPE AND METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

use our medium of speech and often fail to seize its exact 
meaning. 

Nevertheless, these difficulties are not insuperable. 
They can be got over where there are present the qualifi- 
cations of a good observer and an earnest purpose. And 
it must be borne in mind that if there are special difficul- 
ties in the case, there are also special facilities. For chil- 
dren, as compared with adults, are frank in the manifesta- 
tion of their feelings, and free from the many little artifices 
by which their elders are wont, only half consciously 
perhaps, to disguise and transform their real thoughts and 
sentiments in expressing them to others. 

The special qualities needed for a close observation 
and deep understanding of the child-mind are good ob- 
serving habits and a strong, loving interest in childhood. 
Both of these are necessary. If we have only the first, we 
shall fail to see far into child-nature, just because we shall 
not take the trouble to place ourselves, in imagination, in 
the circumstances of children, so as to realize how they 
are affected by things. A warm, tender interest, leading 
to a habit of unfettered companionship, seems to be a 
condition of a fine imaginative insight into children's 
minds, and a firm grasp of the fact that their ways differ 
in so many particulars from our ways. On the other 
hand, if there is the kindly feeling without the trained 
faculty of observation, there is the risk of idealizing child- 
hood, and investing it with admirable traits that do not 
really belong to it. 

In the matter of child-observation the psychologist 
may look to the educators of the young, the parent and 
the teachers, for valuable aid. Some of the best observa- 
tions on the subject of the infant mind which we already 
possess have been contributed by fathers. And much 
may still be done by parents in the way of recording the 
course of development of individual children. At the 
same time, school-teachers, though coming into less inti- 



GENERAL KNOWLEDGE OF MIND. 



19 



mate relations with individual children, have the very great 
advantage of observing numbers. And from them we may 
reasonably ask for statistics of childhood. The dates at 
which certain faculties become prominent, the relative 
strength of the several feelings and impulses, the dominant 
intellectual and moral characteristics of children, these 
and other points are all matters about which teachers, who 
will take the trouble to note accurately, may be expected 
to supply the psychologists of the future with much valu- 
able knowledge.* 

General Knowledge of Mind. — As has been ob- 
served, science consists of general knowledge, or knowl- 
edge expressed in a general form. Hence, mental science 
seeks to generalize our knowledge of mind. In the first 
place, it aims at grouping all the phenomena observed 
under certain heads. That is to say, it classifies the end- 
less variety of mental states according to their resem- 
blances. In so doing it overlooks the individual differ- 
ences of minds and fixes attention on their common feat- 
ures. A sound scientific classification of mental states is 
a matter of practical importance, whether we are dealing 
with minds in the earlier or the later stages of develop- 
ment. Thus, the teacher will be in a far better position 
to deal with a child's mind, both in its several parts and 
as a whole, when he has reduced the tangle of mental 
manifestations to order and simplicity. 

In the second place, every science aims not only at 
ordering its phenomena, but at making certain assertions 
about them. There are general truths or laws which hold 
good of numerous varieties of phenomena. When the 
phenomena are occurrences in time, these laws have to do 
with the relation of events to other events preceding or 

* On the qualifications of an observer of children's minds, and on 
the literature of the subject, see the writer's Introduction to M. Perez's 
work, " The First Three Years of Childhood." London : W. Swan Son- 
nenschein & Co. 



20 SCOPE AND METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

succeeding them. That is to say, they formulate the re- 
lations of causal dependence of phenomena on other phe- 
nomena. Mental science seeks to arrive at such truths or 
laws of mind. Its ultimate object is to determine the con- 
ditions on which mental phenomena depend. Thus, the 
psychologist asks what are the conditions of retention, 
what are the circumstances which produce and favor the 
keeping of impressions in the mind. And it is this knowl- 
edge of conditions and of laws which is of greatest practi- 
cal value. For it is only by understanding how a mental 
product is formed that we can help in forming it, or inter- 
fere so as to modify the process of formation. 

Now, a little attention to the subject will show that 
mental phenomena are related in the way of dependence 
not only to other phenomena immediately preceding, but 
to remotely antecedent phenomena. For example, the 
quick response of a child to a command depends not only 
on certain present conditions, viz., attention to the words 
of the command, etc., but on past conditions, on the forma- 
tion of a habit, which process may have been going on for 
years. Hence, the consideration of relations of depend- 
ence leads on to the view of mind as a process of growth or 
development. The most important laws of mind, from the 
educator's point of view, are laws of mental development. 

Before we go on to consider the several groups of 
mental states in detail and the laws which govern them, 
we shall do well to look at mind from the physiological 
side, that is to say, at the way in which the mind as a 
whole is affected by its connection with the bodily organ- 
ism. This aspect of our subject will occupy us in the 
next chapter. 

APPENDIX. 

For a fuller account of the scope and method of psychology the 
reader is referred to my larger work, " Outlines of Psychology," Appen- 
dix A ; also to the works referred to in the appendix to Chapter II of 
that volume. 



CHAPTER III. 

MIND AND BODY. 

Connection between Mind and Body. — When we 
say that mind and body are connected, we are simply 
stating a fact of our every-day experience, and a fact 
which scientific observation and experiment are rendering 
more and more certain and precise. That is to say, we 
affirm that mental processes or operations are in some way 
conjoined with bodily operations. We do not make any 
assertion as to the ultimate nature of mind or of body, or 
seek to account for the apparent mystery of two things so 
utterly disparate as mind and body being thus united in 
one living being. These problems lie outside science 
altogether, and belong to the domain of philosophy or 
metaphysics. 

Keeping then to the phenomena, or observable processes 
of mind and of body, we find first of all that these are 
clearly conjoined in time. That is to say, mental activity 
goes on along with bodily activity and always has this for 
its accompaniment. We know nothing of mental opera- 
tions that are unattended by physical changes in certain 
portions of the body. And some of these physiological 
processes appear to be perfectly simultaneous with the 
mental operations to which they correspond. In the 
second place, there is an apparent interaction between 
the mental and physical processes. As we shall see 
presently, there are certain organs of the body which are 



22 MIND AND BODY. 

in a peculiar way subservient to the discharge of the 
several mental functions. According to their state at any- 
time will mental activity be lively or otherwise. More- 
over, by influencing these physical organs we may pro- 
duce changes in the correlated mental operations. Hence 
we are justified in speaking about these organs as the 
physiological support of mind, and of their activity as the 
condition of mental activity. On the other hand, mental 
processes react on the bodily organism. Thus excessive 
intellectual activity, violent grief, and so forth, are known 
to have far-reaching effects on the bodily functions. 

The Nervous System. — The particular organs which 
thus subserve our mental life are known as the nervous 
system, of which the brain is one of the most important 
parts. These are therefore known as the organs of 
mind.* 

The nervous system is a connected set of physio- 
logical structures, composed of a very fine or highly 
organized form of living matter. These fall into two 
main divisions : compact masses known as nerve-centers, 
lying protected within the bony covering of the skull and 
backbone ; and extensive thread-like ramifications known 
as nerves, connecting these central masses with outlying 
regions of the body. 

The nerves, which are bundles of exceedingly fine 
white fibers or threadlets, are the carrying portion of the 
nervous apparatus. They are of two classes. The first 
connect the centers with outlying surfaces, which are 
susceptible of being acted on by certain external agents 
or stimuli, such as mechanical pressure, heat, etc. Their 
function is to transmit the state of nervous activity pro- 
duced by this stimulation from the periphery to the 
center. Hence they are known as incarrying or afferent 

* The nervous system here means the cerebro-spinal system as dis- 
tinct from the sympathetic system which subserves the lower vital 
functions of the body. 



THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. 



23 



nerves. Since the central effect of this transmission of 
the active state is what we call a sensation, these nerves 
are also called sensory nerves, and the peripheral surfaces 
sensory surfaces. Such are the skin, the retina of the 
eye, etc. The other class of nerves connect the centers 
with muscles, or those bundles of fiber by the contractions 
of which the limbs are moved and the voice exercised. 
They carry nervous impulses from within outward, and 
are known as outcarrying or efferent nerves. And since 
this outgoing activity immediately precedes and produces 
muscular contraction, and so movement, they are also 
called motor nerves. 

The nerve-centers are made up partly of gray masses 
having a minute cellular structure, and partly of bundles of 
nerve fiber, connecting these masses one with another, both 
laterally and longitudinally. They have as their peculiar 
function to transform sensory stimulation into movement, 
and to adjust the latter to the former ; also to bring to- 
gether the results of different sensory stimulations, and to ad- 
just complex groups of movements to groups of impression. 

These nerve-centers are arranged in a series or scale of 
growing complexity. The lower centers are those residing 
in the backbone and known as the spinal column. The 
higher centers lodged within the skull are called the brain, 

From this brief description of the nervous system, it 
will be seen that the general form of nervous action is a 
process of sensory stimulation followed by one of motor 
excitation. This may be represented by the diagram, Fig. 2. 

This scheme roughly answers to the simpler type of 
actions of ourselves as well as of the lower animals, the 
type known as reflex action, i. e., movement in immediate 
response to external stimulus. Thus, when a child asleep 
instantly withdraws his foot when this is pressed, the action 
is effected by means of the lower spinal centers. Such 
reflex actions, however, are not attended with any mental 
activity ; they are unconscious. 



24 



MIND AND BODY. 
Fig. 2. 



Sensory Surface 




A * Nerve-Centers. 



Muscles. 



The more complicated actions involve the co-operation 
of the brain as well. In this case we have to suppose that 



Fig. 3. 



Sensory Surface 




. Higher Nerve-Centers. 



• llll Lower Nerve-Centers. 



Muscles. 



THE SPECIAL ORGANS OF MIND. 25 

the sensory stimulation, instead of passing over at once 
into motor impulse, is propagated further, and engages a 
larger portion of the central structures. This may be 
represented by the diagram, Fig 3. 

Such complicated actions are accompanied by mental 
activity or consciousness. They may be illustrated by the 
act of relieving the pressure of a tight boot by stooping 
and taking it off. This action involves a distinct sensation 
of pressure, and the action of the will in resolving to get 
rid of the discomfort. 

The Special Organs of Mind. — We see from this 
that mental life is connected with the action of the higher 
centers, or the brain. Only when the brain is called to 
take part is there any distinct mental accompaniment. 
The brain thus stands in relation to the lower centers 
somewhat as the head of an office stands in relation to his 
subordinates. The mechanical routine of the office is car- 
ried on by them. He is called on to interfere only when 
some unusual action has to be carried out, and reflection 
and decision are needed. Moreover, just as the principal 
of an office is able to hand over work to his subordinates 
when it ceases to be unusual and becomes methodized and 
reduced to rule, so we shall find that the brain or certain 
portions of it are able to withdraw from actions when 
they have grown thoroughly familiar. This is illustrated 
in the actions which we perform with little consciousness 
because they have become easy and mechanical by repeti- 
tion and habit. 

According to this view, the activity of the brain, together with the 
mental life which accompanies it, intervenes between the action of ex- 
ternal things on the organism and the active response of this organism, 
and subserves the higher and more complicated adjustments of mus- 
cular movement to sensory stimulation. All the earlier and simpler 
forms of cerebral activity are excited by the action of external sensory 
stimuli, and are directed to the performance of external actions in the 
immediate future. 

The later and more complicated actions of the brain do not conform 
2 



2 6 MIND AND BODY. 

to this description. We carry out many processes of reflection which 
have nothing to do with the external surroundings of the moment, and 
which, moreover, are not directed to the immediate realization of any 
desire or purpose. Much of the intellectual life of educated people is 
of this internal character. But even this apparently isolated internal 
activity of the brain may be reduced to the same fundamental type, by 
considering it as indirectly excited by impressions from without, and 
as a preparation for remote actions, certain or contingent, in the future. 
Thus, the study of a science like chemistry or astronomy may be de- 
scribed as only a high stage of elaboration of materials obtained from 
sense, and as undertaken because of its remote bearings on our actions. 

Nature of Nervous Action. — The precise nature of 
nervous action is still a matter of uncertainty. It appears 
to be some form of molecular movement of a vibratory 
character, and propagated somewhat in the manner of 
other vibratory movements, as those of heat and elec- 
tricity. 

The nerve-centers are a storehouse of energy, and their 
action increases the force of the current of stimulation 
which passes through them. This originating action of 
the central structures is known as the nervous discharge, 
and involves the liberation of energy which was previously 
stored up in a latent condition. This setting free of nerv- 
ous energy is effected by a process of disintegration or dis- 
organization in which the highly organized matter of the 
brain undergoes chemical changes and enters into com- 
bination with the oxygen which is brought by the blood. 
The force thus liberated may accordingly be said to have 
been supplied by the process of nutrition, and to have be- 
come latent in the work of building up the organic sub- 
stance of the brain. The relation between brain-nutrition 
and brain-action has been illustrated by the following 
analogy. If we take a number of bricks and set them up 
on end in a row sufficiently near one another, a slight 
amount of pressure applied to the first member of the 
series will cause the whole to fall, each brick adding some- 
thing to the force of the transmitted impact. Our muscu- 



MENTAL ACTIVITY AND BRAIN EFFICIENCY. 2J 

lar work in setting up the bricks was transformed into 
latent or potential energy, viz., that involved in the un- 
stable position of the bricks and their liability to fall. 
According to this analogy, the organic substance of the 
brain is an unstable compound easily broken up, and so 
constituting a reservoir of force. 

We see from this that the nerve-substance is being 
ever unmade and remade, or disintegrated and redinte- 
grated ; and, further, that there is a necessary correlation 
between these two processes of decomposition and repara- 
tion, so that no nervous action is possible except nutrition 
has first done its work. 

Mental Activity and Brain Efficiency. — As already 
pointed out, mental activity is directly connected with 
the exercise of brain-function. When a child uses his 
mind in any way, either by trying to learn something or 
by giving way to great emotional excitement, his brain is 
at work. The greater the mental activity, the more the 
resources of the brain are taxed. This activity of the 
brain necessitates an increased circulation of the blood in 
the organ, both for supplying the nutritive materials re- 
quired, and for furthering the process of nervous action 
itself by an adequate supply of oxygen, and by a suffi- 
ciently rapid removal of the waste products. 

If the brain thus furnishes the physical support of 
mental activity, it is to be expected that this will vary in 
amount with the state of the organ. And this is what we 
find. We all know that if the nervous energy is lowered 
in any way, as by bodily fatigue, grief, etc., the brain re- 
fuses to work smoothly and easily. On the other hand, 
the action of stimulants, as alcohol, on the brain illustrates 
how the mental activity may for a time be raised by add- 
ing to the excitability, and so intensifying the activity of 
the brain. 

The amount of disposable energy in the brain at any 
time, and the consequent readiness for work, will vary 



28 MIND AND BODY. 

with a number of circumstances, (i) Since the brain and 
nervous system as a whole are parts of the bodily organ- 
ism, that is to say, a system of organs closely connected 
with and powerfully interacting on one another, any con- 
siderable fluctuation in the condition of one of the other 
organs will tell on the efficiency of the brain. Thus the 
special demand on the digestive organs after a good meal, 
leading to a diversion of blood as well as of nervous ener- 
gy in that direction, interferes for the time with brain- 
work. Similarly great muscular exertion militates against 
mental application. Again, a disturbance of the proper 
function of the vital organs, such as a fit of indigestion or 
an impeded circulation of the blood, is known to be an 
obstacle to mental activity. Once more, all fluctuations 
in the condition of the organism as a whole, whether the 
periodic exaltation and depression of the physical powers 
which constitute the daily vital rhythm of the body, or 
the irregular changes which we call fluctuations of health, 
involve the brain as well. The organ of mind shares with 
the whole body in the vigor and freshness of the morning, 
and the lassitude of the evening ; and it shares in the 
fluctuating well-being of the body. Lastly, the mind, in 
conjunction with the body, passes through the longer pro- 
cesses of growth and decay which constitute the course of 
the individual life. 

Brain- Activity and Brain-Fatigue. — (2) While the 
efficiency of the brain thus depends on the state of the 
bodily organs, it is affected by the preceding state of the 
organ itself. Thus, after a period of rest, the nervous 
substance being duly renewed, there is a special readiness 
for work. It is this circumstance which explains the in- 
vigorating effects on the powers of the brain of sound 
sleep, and of less complete forms of mental repose, such 
as are found in the lighter intellectual recreations. On 
the other hand, all brain-work tends to exhaust the nerv- 
ous energy and so to lower the subsequent efficiency. 



OVERTAXING THE BRAIN. 



2 9 



If the work is light in character, the effects are of course 
less noticeable : nothing like brain-fatigue is induced, and 
we may be unaware of any falling off in power. On the 
other hand, after a severe application of the mind, even 
for a short time, we become distinctly aware of certain 
sensations of fatigue, as well as of a temporary falling off 
in vigor. In the case of children, whose stock of brain- 
vigor is much smaller, these effects show themselves much 
sooner. 

The physiological explanation of these facts is as fol- 
lows : In the lighter kinds of brain-activity, the consump- 
tion of brain-material being small, the process of recuper- 
ation easily keeps pace with it. On the other hand, in the 
heavier sorts of mental work, energy is consumed faster 
than it can be supplied ; the process of redintegration 
does not keep pace with that of disintegration. This 
points to the necessity of a frequent relaxation of the 
nervous strain, especially at the beginning of school-life. 

Effects of Brain- Activity on the Organism. — But 
this is not the whole effect of brain-activity. In cases 
where the powers of the organ are taxed for a prolonged 
period, other organs are liable to be affected. Thus, since 
prolonged brain-exercise draws off the blood in too large 
a quantity to that organ, it is apt to impede the general 
circulation, and so to give rise to the familiar discomforts 
of cold feet, etc. Graver results may ensue in the case of 
the too eager student who by using up nerve-energy too 
extravagantly in brain-work leaves too little for the other 
functions of the nervous system, and more particularly the 
regulation of the vital processes, and so becomes the sub- 
ject of chronic dyspepsia, etc. We thus see that while the 
state of the bodily organs influences that of the brain, 
there is an important reciprocal action of the higher organ 
on the lower ones. 

Overtaxing the Brain. — It follows from the above 
remarks that it is possible to exact from the brain more 



30 



MIND AND BODY. 



work than it is good for it to perform. Wherever brain- 
work is accompanied by a distinct feeling of fatigue, this 
points to an overstimulation of the organ. By overstimu- 
lation is meant, first of all, bringing pressure to bear on 
the brain so as to excite it to activity beyond the point at 
which recuperation keeps pace with expenditure of energy ; 
and, secondly, the exercise of the brain disproportionately, 
that is, in relation to the other organs of the body, more 
particularly the vital organs. 

It is exceedingly important to distinguish this second 
and more profound sense of the term overstimulation from 
the first. There can be overexercise of the brain when 
the local symptoms of brain-fatigue are not present. The 
brain, like the other organs, learns to adapt itself within 
certain limits to the amount of work required of it. A 
child, when first subjected to the prolonged and system- 
atic stimulation of the school, comes in a short time to feel 
less of the strain of mental application. This may mean 
a diminution of effort by the normal results of exercise and 
growth ; but it may also mean that the increased activity 
of the organ is due to an unfair distribution of the phys- 
ical energy, the organ of mind being enriched at the expense 
of the vital organs. 

Now, this risk is peculiarly great in early life, when a 
large fund of nutritive material is needed for the processes 
of growth. Severe exercise of any organ, by using up 
material in functional action, though it may further the 
development, i. e., the higher structural condition of that 
organ, is directly opposed to the growth, that is, the ex- 
pansion in bulk of the body. 

All severe exercise of the brain in early life is opposed 
to the laws of development of the child's being. Accord- 
ing to these the lower vital functions are developed before 
the higher. First comes the vegetal or nutritive life ; then 
the common animal life of sense and movement ; and 
finally the distinctly human life of mind. The develop- 



VARIATION OF BRAIN-EXERCISE. 



31 



ment of these higher mental functions is only normal and 
safe when a firm basis of physical strength and well-being 
has first been laid down. To try to force on the functions 
of the brain in advance of those of the vital organs is to 
endanger the whole organism, and along with this the or- 
gans of mind themselves.* 

In thus touching on the risks of educational pressure, 
it may be well to add that they are susceptible of being 
overrated as well as underrated. It is an error to suppose 
that all systematic teaching tends in the direction of over- 
excitation of the brain. So far from this being the case, 
it may be confidently said that within certain limits mental 
occupation is distinctly beneficial to the child. Every 
organ requires a certain amount of exercise in order to 
continue in a healthy and vigorous condition. Children 
deprived of the material for mental activity suffer from 
tedium, which may be viewed as a symptom that the mind 
and brain are in need of exercise. Many children have 
become happier and healthier after entering on school-life, 
and this not merely because the school supplied healthier 
physical surroundings, but also because it supplied a 
healthier regime for the brain. To this is to be added that, 
as already pointed out, the brain, like other organs, grows 
stronger by exercise, and within certain limits it is per- 
fectly safe to carry on a progressively increasing stimula- 
tion of the organ. 

Remission and Variation of Brain-Exercise. — 
The great danger, especially with young children, is that 
of unduly prolonging the duration of the mental strain at 
one time. A short exertion even of great severity is in- 
nocuous, whereas an unbroken application of mind to a 
difficult subject for half an hour or more may be injurious. 
One of the greatest improvements in modern educational 

* On the injurious effects of excessive stimulation of the brain in 
retarding bodily growth, see Herbert Spencer, " Education," chap, iv, 
p. 165, and following. 



32 



MIND AND BODY. 



methods, considered both from a hygienic point of view 
and from that of mental efficiency itself, is the substitution 
of short for long lessons, and the frequent alternation of 
mental and bodily exercise. These breaks, though, in ap- 
pearance, occasioning a loss of time and adding to the 
teacher's labors in restoring order and recalling the pupil's 
minds to the calm attitude of attention, are in reality a 
true economy of time and force. 

Since the brain is a complicated group of structures, it 
is reasonable to suppose that different regions are specially 
engaged in different kinds of mental activity. And mod- 
ern science, while rejecting the definite mapping out of 
the brain functions proposed by the phrenologists, is dis- 
tinctly tending toward a new and carefully verified theory 
of localization of function. Adopting this view of brain- 
action as engaging special centers at different times, we 
may see that the due variation of school subject owes a 
part of its value at least to the circumstance that it fulfills 
in a subordinate manner the purpose of brain-rest. Thus, 
by passing from an object lesson to a singing lesson, the 
centers of vision are put into a condition of comparative 
rest, while other centers, the auditory and vocal, which 
have been recuperating, are called into play. And as sci- 
ence enables us to localize the brain functions more ex- 
actly, the theory of education will probably receive from 
it further guidance as to the best way of varying school 
exercises. 

Differences of Brain-Power. — The educator should 
bear in mind that children are endowed with very unequal 
cerebral capacity. The whole sum of vital force is a dif- 
ferent one in the case of different children, and the dis- 
tribution of this among the several organs is also different. 
Hence, an amount of mental exercise that would be quite 
safe in one case would be harmful in another. The indi- 
vidual co-efficient of brain-power is the limit set by nature 
to the teacher's efforts, and he can not afford to ignore it. 



DIFFERENCES OF BRAIN-POWER. 



33 



This co-efficient determines the amount of mental reaction 
to external stimulus. Just as one and the same physical 
stimulus will evoke very unequal amounts of muscular ac- 
tivity in the case of a vigorous and a feeble body, so the 
same quantity of intellectual stimulus will call forth very 
unlike mental reactions in the case of a robust and a 
weakly brain. This varying co-efficient of brain-power is 
seen very distinctly in the different rates of mental work 
of different children. It is not too much to say that the 
whole range of mental acquisition is in each case fixed 
from the first by the child's cerebral capacity. 

On the connection between body and mind in its educational 
bearings the student is referred to H. Spencer's " Education," chap, 
iv. ; Dr. Bain's "Education as a Science," chap. ii. ; Dr. Andrew 
Combe's " Principles of Physiology applied to the Preservation of 
Health and to the Improvement of Physical and Mental Education," 
chaps, xi. to xiv., which, in spite of antiquated phrenological allusions, 
are still well worth reading. 



CHAPTER IV. 

KNOWING, FEELING, AND WILLING. 

Mental Phenomena and Operations. — As was 

pointed out above, mental science consists of an orderly- 
arrangement of the general truths, or laws which relate to 
mental phenomena. In order to arrive at these truths, we 
have first to ascertain what our phenomena are, and to 
arrange them in general groups or classes, based on funda- 
mental points of likeness. 

Mental phenomena are known by different names. 
They are commonly called states of mind, or states of 
consciousness. Since, however, they are phenomena in 
time, having a certain duration and a succession of parts, 
they are just as often spoken of as mental processes or 
operations. It is important, further, to distinguish be- 
tween a mental process or operation and its result or prod- 
uct. Thus we distinguish between a process of percep- 
tion, and its result, a percept ; a process of association and 
suggestion, and its product, a recollection ; between an 
operation called reasoning and its result, rational convic- 
tion, and so forth. 

Classification of Mental Operations. — If we com- 
pare our mental states at different times, Ave find them 
presenting very different characters. Sometimes we de- 
scribe ourselves as experiencing feelings of joy, grief, etc., 
at other times as thinking about a matter, and so forth. 
And, if we look more closely at the contents of our mind 



THREE ASPECTS OF MIND. 



35 



at one and the same time, we are commonly able to dis- 
tinguish between different ingredients, as emotions, recol- 
lections, desires. 

Common thought has long since distinguished between 
different classes or varieties of mental operation. Scien- 
tific research carries this process further, and seeks to 
reach the most fundamental differences among our mental 
operations. This is commonly described as dividi?ig mind 
into its fundamental functions, and also as analyzing it 
into its elements. 

If we examine the every-day distinctions of popular 
psychology, we find that there are three fairly clear divis- 
ions which do not seem to have anything in common be- 
yond being all modes of mental activity. Thus we ordi- 
narily describe such activities as perceiving, remembering, 
and reasoning, as intellectual operations. So, again, we 
bring sorrow, joy, love, anger, and so on, under the general 
description of feeling or emotion. And, finally, we gather 
up operations like purposing, deliberating, doing things, 
under the head of will. We broadly mark off these three 
sides of mind, and talk of men as exhibiting now one and 
now another aspect. 

Feeling, Knowing, and Willing. — Mental science 
adopts this three-fold division, (i) Under Feeling we 
include all pleasurable and painful conditions of mind. 
These may be very simple feelings, having definite bodily 
causes, such as the painful sensations of hunger and thirst, 
or the pleasures of the palate. Or they may be of a more 
complex nature, such as love, or remorse. (2) Knowing, 
again, includes all operations which are directly involved 
in gaining knowledge, as, for example, observing what is 
present to the senses, recalling the past, and reasoning. 
(3) Finally, Willing or Acting covers all active mental 
operations, all our conscious doings, such as walking, 
speaking, attending to things, together with efforts to do 
things, active impulses and resolutions. The perfect type 



36 KNOWING, FEELING, AND WILLING. 

of action is doing something for an end or purpose ; and 
this is what we ordinarily mean by a voluntary action. 

Opposition between Knowing, Feeling, and 
Willing. — These three kinds of mental state are, as 
we have seen, in general clearly marked off one from 
another. A child in a state of strong emotional excite- 
ment contrasts with a child calmly thinking about some- 
thing, or another child exerting his active powers in doing 
something. If we take any one of these aspects of mind 
in a well-marked form, we see that it is opposed to the 
other aspects. Thus strong feeling is opposed to and 
precludes at the time calm thinking (recollecting, reason- 
ing), as well as regulated action (will). Similarly, the 
intellectual state of remembering or reasoning when fully 
developed at the moment is opposed to feeling and to 
doing. The mind can not exhibit each variety of function 
in a marked degree at the same time. 

This opposition may be seen in another way. If we 
compare, not different states of the same mind, but differ- 
ent minds as a whole, we often find now one kind of 
mental state or operation, now another in the ascendant. 
Minds marked by much feeling (sensitive, emotional na- 
tures) commonly manifest less of the intellectual and voli- 
tional aspects or properties. Similarly, minds of a high 
degree of intellectual capability (inquiring or inquisitive 
minds), or of much active endowment (active minds), are 
as a rule relatively weak in the other kinds of endowment. 

It follows from this that the training of the mind in 
any one of its three functions is to some extent a separate 
matter. Thus, intellectual education has its separate end, 
viz., the production of a quick, unerring intelligence, 
which end involves no proportionate development of the 
feelings or of the will. 

Connection between Knowing, Feeling, and 
Willing. — Yet while knowing, feeling, and willing are 
thus broadly marked off from, and even opposed to, one 



CONNECTION OF THESE ACTIVITIES. 37 

another, they are in another way closely connected. A 
mind is not a material object which can be separated into 
distinct parts, but an organic unity made up of parts 
standing in the closest relation of interdependence. If 
we closely examine any case of feeling, we are sure to find 
some intellectual and volitional accompaniments. Thus 
when we experience a bodily pain (feeling), we instantly 
localize the pain or recognize its seat (knowledge), and 
endeavor to alleviate it (volition). Most of our feelings, 
as we shall see, are wrapped up with or embodied in intel- 
lectual states (perceiving, remembering, etc.). Again, 
intellectual operations, observing, thinking, etc., are com- 
monly accompanied by some shade of agreeable or dis- 
agreeable feeling, and they always involve voluntary ac- 
tivity in the shape of attention or concentration of mind. 
Finally, willing depends on feeling for its motive or im- 
pelling force, and on knowledge for its illumination or 
guidance. 

It will be seen from this that our threefold division of 
mind is a division according to the fundamentally distinct 
aspects which predominate at different times. Thus by 
intellectual states or processes we mean those modes of 
mental activity in which the cognitive function is most 
marked and prominent. 

This fact of the invariable concomitance of the three 
mental functions is of capital importance to the teacher. 
Misled by our habits of analysis, and our abstract ways of 
thinking, we are apt to suppose that in training the intel- 
lectual faculties we may disregard the emotional and voli- 
tional element altogether. But a deeper insight into the 
organic unity of mind corrects this error. One great law 
governing our intellectual activity is that we attend to 
what interests us, that is, to what excites feeling in some 
way and, through this, arouses the energies of the will. 
And just as educators have sometimes failed to make the 
best of children's intellectual powers, by overlooking the 



38 KNOWING, FEELING, AND WILLING. 

necessary accompaniments of feeling and will, so they 
have failed to develop the highest type of will and char- 
acter, because they have not recognized the dependence 
of this on a certain mode of intelligence, and on the de- 
velopment of particular emotions. 

Species of Knowing, Feeling, and Willing : 
Mental Faculties. — Popular psychology recognizes cer- 
tain divisions or species of knowing, feeling, and willing 
under the head of faculties, capabilities, or powers. More 
particularly we speak of intellectual faculties such as 
perception and imagination ; emotional capacities, or sus- 
ceptibilities, as love, anger ; and active powers and dispo- 
sitions, such as movement, choice, industry. 

These distinctions are valid so far as they go. The 
psychologist allows that perceiving and remembering differ 
in certain important respects. The first operation con- 
tains elements (e. g., actual sense-impressions) which the 
second does not contain. Thus there is a real psychologi- 
cal distinction involved, and the psychologist will find it 
here as elsewhere convenient to make this popularly recog- 
nized distinction the starting-point in a scientific treatment 
of the phenomena of mind. 

In adopting these popular distinctions, however, the 
psychologist must not be taken to imply that the several 
processes of perceiving, remembering, etc., are distinct one 
from the other fundamentally, that is to say, with respect 
to their elementary parts. While we set out with these 
well-marked divisions of faculty, we seek to discover by a 
deeper psychological analysis certain more fundamental 
or primary distinctions, and to regard such differences 
as those between perceiving and remembering as second- 
ary. 

Primary Intellectual Functions. — The essential 
operation in all varieties of knowing is the detecting of 
relations between things. I know a tree, a period of 
English history, a demonstration in Euclid, when I know 



INDIVIDUAL DIFFERENCES. 



39 



its several parts in relation one to another, and also its 
relations as a whole to other things. The most compre- 
hensive relations are difference or unlikeness and agree- 
ment or likeness. All knowing means discriminating one 
impression, object, or idea from another (or others), and 
assimilating it to yet another (or others). I perceive an 
object as a rose only when I distinguish its several parts 
and features one from another ; and when, further, I see 
how it differs from other objects, and more especially 
other varieties of flower, and at the same time recognize 
its likeness to other roses previously seen. And so of 
other forms of knowing. Hence, discrimination and as- 
similation may be viewed as the primary functions of 
intellect. 

While these two primary functions constitute the main factor 
in intellectual operations, the exercise of them presupposes other 
capabilities. Thus the power of taking apart the objects presented 
to the mind, and confining the attention to certain details or particu- 
lars (analysis), together with the supplementary power of mentally 
grasping a number of objects together at the same time (synthesis), is 
clearly implied in all knowing. This power will be dealt with under 
the head of attention. In addition to this, there is the mind's capaci- 
ty of retention, that is, of conserving past impressions and recalling 
them for future use. Unless we could thus retain impressions, we 
should be unable to bring together before the mind facts lying in 
different regions of our experience, and so discover their relations. 
Moreover, the abiding knowledge of any subject plainly implies the re- 
tention of what we have learned. 

Individual Differences of Mental Capability. — 

The several mental operations do not present themselves 
in precisely the same manner in all minds. They vary 
in certain respects, and these variations are referred to 
differences of mental power or capacity. Now, as we 
have seen, psychology as science has to do with the gen- 
eral facts and truths of mind. It tabes no account of 
individual peculiarities. Nevertheless, the practical im- 
portance of estimating individual differences has led psy- 



40 KNOWING, FEELING, AND WILLING. 

chologists to pay considerable attention to this concrete 
branch of their subject. And the foregoing analysis of 
mental functions prepares the way for a scientific classifi- 
cation of individual differences. 

There are different ways in which individual minds 
vary. Thus, one mind may differ from another in respect 
of one whole phase or side. For example, we speak of one 
child as more intellectual or more inquiring than another. 
Similarly, one child is said to have more emotional sus- 
ceptibility or more active impulse or will than another. 

Again, we may make our comparison more narrow, 
and observe how one mind differs from another with re- 
spect to a special mode of intellectual (or other) activity. 
Thus, to find that individuals vary in respect of one of the 
primary intellectual functions, that one has a finer sense 
of difference or a keener sense of resemblance than an- 
other. Or, once more, we may vote and record differ- 
ences in the strength of some particular faculty, as obser- 
vation, or reason. Or, lastly, we may distinguish yet 
more narrowly, comparing individuals with respect to 
some special mode of operation of a faculty, as perception 
of form, or memory for words. 

In like manner we can distinguish between different 
degrees of strength of a special emotion, as anger or affec- 
tion, or of a particular active endowment, as endurance. 

All the innumerable differences which characterize in- 
dividual minds must ultimately resolve themselves into 
these modes. The problem of measuring these individual 
differences with something like scientific exactness will 
occupy us later on. 

Truths or Laws of Mind. — The classification of 
mental states prepares the way for ascertaining the gen- 
eral truths of mind. The most comprehensive of these 
truths are known as laws of mind. These laws aim at 
setting forth in the most general form the way in which 
mental states are connected one with another, and particu- 



CONDITIONS OF MENTAL ACTIVITY. 



41 



larly the way in which they succeed and act upon one an- 
other. The law that governs any mental operation unfolds 
the circumstances necessary to its accomplishment, in 
other words, its causal antecedents or conditions. It thus 
helps us to explain or account for the operation in any 
particular case. 

Here, too, mental science is seeking to improve on pop- 
ular psychology ; for observation has long since taught 
men that mental products, such as knowledge and charac- 
ter, presuppose certain antecedent circumstances and in- 
fluences. This is seen in the common sayings about mind 
and character, such as " Experience is the best teacher," 
"Love is blind," " First impressions last longest," etc. 

General Conditions of Mental Activity. — Some 
of these laws of mind embody the general conditions of 
mental operations, whether those of feeling, knowing, or 
willing. Reference has already been made to the com- 
mon physiological conditions of mental operations, viz., a 
vigorous state of the brain, etc. Among general mental 
conditions, attention is by far the most important. Atten- 
tion is presupposed alike in all clear knowing, vivid feel- 
ing, and energetic willing. The laws of attention, to be 
spoken of presently, are thus in a manner laws of mind as 
a whole. 

Conditions of Knowing, Feeling, and Willing. 
— Next to these universal conditions, there are the more 
special ones of knowing, of feeling, and of willing. Thus 
the laws of mental reproduction, or the revival of impres- 
sions, are in a peculiar manner laws of intellect. Similar- 
ly, there are laws of feeling which seek to formulate the 
conditions of pleasure and pain, as well as the effects of 
feeling on the thoughts and beliefs. Finally, we have 
special laws of willing, as, for example, that action varies 
with the intensity of motive force applied, that proximate 
satisfactions excite the will more powerfully than remote 
ones. It is to be added that in assigning the special con- 



42 KNOWING, FEELING, AND WILLING. 

ditions of feeling, knowing, and willing, we should refer 
to the particular nervous structures engaged, so far as 
these are known. 

As truths of mind still more special, we have the enu- 
meration of the several conditions of a particular variety of 
operation, such as the intellectual act of observation or 
imagination. This gives us the law of operation of that 
particular faculty. Thus we explain or account for ob- 
servation by specifying its conditions, external and internal, 
such as the favorable position of the object, some special 
interest in it, etc. Here, too, we must include in our sur- 
vey the regions of the nervous system specially engaged. 

As already observed, this enumeration of co-operating 
conditions must in certain cases embrace remote as well 
as immediate antecedents. Thus, to account for a recol- 
lection, we need to refer not only to the suggestive forces 
acting at the time, but also to the influence of past ex- 
perience in associating that which suggests with that which 
it suggests. 

For a complete understanding of the way in which any 
variety of mental product arises, we need to take into ac- 
count the action of the whole mental state at the time, so 
far as it is favorable or unfavorable. Thus, calmness of 
mind, freedom from emotional excitement, and preoccu- 
pation of the attention, is an important negative condition 
of the more difficult intellectual processes. 

Finally, among the conditions of a perfect discharge 
of any mental function we presuppose a mind in which 
this power is strong and well developed. And it is often 
well to specify this. Thus, in setting forth the conditions 
of retention under any of its forms, such as the recollection 
of colors or places, we may specify a good natural reten- 
tive power in that particular direction. 

Importance of understanding the Conditions of 
Mental Activity. — The understanding of the laws that 
control the various forms of mental activity is a matter of 



KNOWLEDGE REQUIRED BY THE TEACHER. 43 

special consequence to the teacher. As already observed, 
we can only bring about any intellectual or other mental 
product when we see clearly into the conditions on which 
it depends. The educator, in seeking to exercise some 
faculty, say observation, is coming into a certain rapport 
with the pupil's mind. This relation is not like that of an 
external mechanical force to a passive material, as clay or 
sealing-wax. The teacher only succeeds in doing any- 
thing when he calls forth the learner's own mental activity. 
The very idea of stimulating the mind implies that the 
external agent calls forth a mental reaction, that is, ex- 
cites the mind to its appropriate form of activity. Hence, 
the teacher needs to have, at the outset, the clearest knowl- 
edge as to what this activity is, and what laws it uniformly 
obeys. Thus, for example, he requires to understand what 
the mind really does when it thoroughly grasps and assimi- 
lates a new truth. 

In the process of stimulating the mind the teacher ne- 
cessarily employs certain agencies, and it is of the greatest 
importance that he rightly understand their precise effect 
in furthering the mental activity he would excite. Thus, 
in giving a child verses to commit to memory, he should 
know to what extent and in what precise manner this em- 
ployment exercises the memory. And this he can only do 
when he has a clear scientific insight into the nature of the 
faculty and the laws of its operation. It is of great im- 
portance, too, that he should understand in what ways his 
appliances are liable to be counteracted by other influ- 
ences, such as an unfavorable state of the pupil's mind at 
the moment. 

In the appliances brought to bear by the educator there 
are two things to be distinguished : first of all, the material 
supply on which the pupil's mind is to exercise itself ; and, 
secondly, the motive force brought to bear in order to in- 
duce the learner to apply his mind to the subject. A wise 
choice of material presupposes a certain knowledge of the 



44 KNOWING, FEELING, AND WILLING. 

intellectual faculties, and the laws which govern their op- 
eration. A wise selection of motive presupposes no less 
accurate a knowledge of the laws that rule in the domain 
of the feelings and the will. 

APPENDIX. 
The reader who desires to read further on the threefold division 
of mind is referred to my " Outlines of Psychology," chap, ii, and Ap- 
pendix B ; also, to the works of Sir W. Hamilton and Dr. Bain, there 
quoted. 



CHAPTER V. 

MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

Mental Development defined.— In the last chapter 
we were concerned with ascertaining the nature and con- 
ditions of the several kinds of mental operation, without 
any reference to the time of life at which they occur. But 
mental operations differ greatly in different periods of life, 
owing to what we call the growth or d:velopment of faculty 
or capacity. We have now to consider this far-reaching 
process of mental growth. We shall seek to distinguish 
between the successive stages of mental life, and point out 
how these are related one to the other. By so doing we 
may hope to account not merely for the single operations 
of a faculty, but for the mature faculty itself, viewed as 
the result of a process of growth. This part of our subject 
constitutes the theory of mental development. 

When speaking of the physical organism, we distin- 
guish between growth and development. The former is 
mere increase of size or bulk; the latter consists of 
structural changes (increase of complexity). While growth 
and development usually run on together, there is no 
proper parallelism between them. Thus, in abnormal 
growth, development is hindered. And an organ, as the 
brain, may develop long after it has ceased to grow. It is 
possible to apply this analogy to mind. We may say that 
mind grows when it increases its stock of materials. It 
develops in so far as its materials are elaborated into 



46 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

higher and more complex forms. Mere growth of mind 
would thus be illustrated by an increase in the bulk of 
mental retentions, that is, in the contents of memory : de- 
velopment, by the ordering of these contents in their re- 
lations of difference and likeness, and so on. But in 
general the two terms, mental growth and mental develop- 
ment, may be used as interchangeable. 

The characteristics of mental development are best 
seen in the case of the intellect. The growth of knowl- 
edge may be viewed in different ways : (i) Under one 
aspect it is a gradual progress from vague to distinct 
knowledge. The perceptions and ideas grow more defi- 
nite. This may be called intellectual differentiation. (2) 
Again, it is a progress from simple to complex processes. 
There is a continual grouping or integration of elements 
into organic compounds. In this way the child's knowl- 
edge of whole localities, of series of events, and so forth, 
arises. (3) Once more, it is a continual movement from 
external sense to internal thought or reflection. Or, as it 
is commonly described, it is a transition from the presenta- 
tive, or what is directly presented to the mind through 
sense, to the representative, that which is indirectly set 
before the mind by the aid of internal ideas. (4) Lastly, 
this progress from sense to thought is a transition from 
the knowledge of individuals to that of general classes, or 
from a knowledge of concrete things to that of their ab- 
stract qualities.* 

This aggregate of changes, which constitutes the growth 
of mind, appears to resolve itself into two parts. On the 
one hand we see that the several faculties which operate 
in the case of the child have expanded and increased in 
vigor. On the other hand we notice that new faculties, 

* Reference is made here only to knowledge of outer things. As 
will be seen by-and-by, the growth of self-knowledge illustrates the 
same movement from outer sense to internal reflection, from the con- 
crete to the abstract. 



UNFOLDING OF FACULTIES. 47 

the germs of which are hardly discoverable in the child, 
have acquired strength. We see, that is to say, that while 
the faculties have each grown singly, there has been a 
certain order of unfolding among them, so that some have 
reached mature vigor before others. 

Growth of Faculty. — The growth or improvement 
of a faculty includes three things, or may be regarded 
under three aspects : (1) Old operations become more 
perfect, and also more easy and rapid. Thus the recog- 
nition of an individual object, as a person's face, as also 
the recalling of it when absent, tends to become more dis- 
tinct, as well as easier, with the repetition of the opera- 
tion. This is improvement of a faculty in a definite 
direction. (2) New operations of a similar grade of com- 
plexity will also grow easier. Thus the improvement of 
the observing powers (perception) includes a growing 
facility in noting and recognizing unfamiliar objects ; that 
of memory includes a greater readiness in retaining and 
recalling new impressions. This is improvement of a 
faculty generally. (3) This general improvement is com- 
pleted by the attainment of the capability of executing 
more complex, intricate, and difficult operations. Thus 
the growth of memory means the progress of the capa- 
bility as shown in retaining and recalling less striking im- 
pressions and larger and more complex groups of impres- 
sions. 

Order of Development of Faculties. — One of the 
most valuable doctrines of modern psychology is that 
there is a uniform order of development of the faculties. 
There is a well-marked order in the growth of intellect. 
(1) The process of attaining knowledge sets out with 
sensation, or the reception of external impressions by the 
mind. Sense supplies the materials which the intellect 
assimilates and elaborates according to its own laws. 
Before we can know anything about the material objects 
which surround us they must impress our mind through 



48 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

the senses (sight, touch, hearing, etc.). (2) Sensation is 
followed by perception, in which a number of impressions 
are grouped together under the form of a percept, or an 
immediate apprehension of some thing or object, as when 
we see and recognize an orange or a bell. (3) After per- 
ception comes representative imagination, in which the 
mind pictures, or has an image of, what has been per- 
ceived. It may represent this either in the original form 
(reproductive imagination), as when we recall the face of 
a friend ; or in a new form (constructive imagination), as 
when we imagine some historical personage. (4) Finally, 
we have general or abstract knowing, otherwise marked 
off as thinking. This includes conception, or the forma- 
tion of concepts or general notions out of percepts and 
images, such as " metal," " organism," " life," and so on ; 
judgment, or the combination of concepts, as when we 
assert that no men are omniscient ; and reasoning, or the 
combination of judgments, as when we conclude that a 
particular writer, say a journalist, is not omniscient, be- 
cause no men are so. 

Unity of Intellectual Development.— It has already 
been pointed out that modern psychology seeks to reduce 
the several operations of perception, imagination, etc., to 
certain fundamental processes, of which discrimination 
and assimilation are the most important. By help of this 
deeper analysis of intellectual activity we are able to re- 
gard the successive unfoldings of the faculties as one con- 
tinuous process. The higher and more complex opera- 
tions of thought now appear as only different modes of 
the same fundamental functions of intellect that underlie 
the lower and simpler operations of sense-perception. 
Thus the simplest germ of knowing involves the discrimi- 
nation of sense-impression ; and the highest form of know- 
ing, abstract thinking, is a higher manifestation of the 
same power. Again, the perception of a single object is a 
process of assimilating present to past impressions ; and 



STRENGTHENING OF FACULTY. 



49 



abstract thinking is assimilating or classing many objects 
under certain common aspects. We may thus say that 
the several stages of knowing, viz., perception, conception, 
and so on, illustrate the same fundamental activities of 
intellect employed about more and more complex mate- 
rials (sensations, percepts, ideas, etc.). 

We thus see that there are no breaks in the process of 
intellectual development. It is one continuous process, 
from its simplest to its most complex phase. The distinc- 
tions between perception, imagination, etc., though of great 
practical convenience, as roughly marking the successive 
stages of growth, must not be taken as answering to sharp 
divisions. The movement of intellectual progress is not 
a series of separate leaps, but one unbroken and even 
movement. 

Growth and Exercise of Faculty.— The great law 
underlying these processes of development is that the 
faculties or functions of intellect are strengthened by ex- 
ercise. Thus the power of observation (perception), of 
detecting differences among colors, forms, and so on, im- 
proves by the repeated exercise of this power. Each suc- 
cessive operation tends to improve the faculty, and more 
particularly in the particular direction in which it is exer- 
cised. Thus, if the power of observation is exercised with 
respect to colors, it will be strengthened more especially 
in this direction, but not to the same extent in other di- 
rections, e. g., with respect to forms. 

Again, since perception, conception, and so forth, are 
only different modes of the same intellectual functions, the 
exercise of these in the lower form prepares the way for 
the higher manifestations. Thus, in training the senses, 
we are calling into play the power of analyzing a complex 
whole into its parts, also the functions of discrimination 
and assimilation, and so are laying the foundations of the 
higher intellectual culture. On the other hand, we must 
not suppose that by merely exercising the observing powers 



50 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

we can secure a development of the powers of abstract 
thought. In order that the successive phases of intelli- 
gence may unfold themselves, the separate exercise of the 
fundamental functions in each of these phases is necessary. 
That is to say, we require a special training for each of the 
faculties in due order. 

Growth and Retentiveness. — This growth of intel- 
lect by exercise implies retentiveness. By this term, in its 
widest signification, is meant that every operation of mind 
leaves a trace behind it, which constitutes a disposition to 
perform the same operation or same kind of operation 
again. This truth obviously underlies the generalization, 
" Exercise strengthens faculty." The increased power of 
observation, for example, due to repeated exercises of the 
faculty, can only be accounted for by saying that each 
successive exercise modifies the mind, adding to its capa- 
bility of acting, and strengthening its tendency to act in 
that particular mode. 

Growth and Habit. — This persistence of traces, and 
formation of a disposition to think, feel, etc., in the same 
way as before underlies what we call habit. By this term, 
in its most comprehensive sense, is meant a fixed tendency 
to think, feel, or act in a particular way under special cir- 
cumstances. The formation of habits is a very important 
ingredient of what we mean by intellectual development ; 
but it is not all that is so meant. Habit refers rather to 
the fixing of mental operations in particular directions. 
Taken in this narrow sense, habit is in a manner opposed 
to growth. By following out a train of ideas again and 
again in a certain way, we lose the* capability of varying 
this order, of re-adapting the combination to new circum- 
stances. Habit is thus the element of persistence, of cus- 
tom, the conservative tendency ; whereas growth implies 
flexibility, modifiability, susceptibility to new impressions, 
the progressive tendency. We shall again and again have 
to distinguish between the effect of habit, as understood in 



GROUPING OF PARTS. 5 I 

this narrow sense, and development in the full sense, as a 
wide or many-sided progress. The importance of the 
principle of habit will be illustrated more especially in the 
domain of action.* 

In order that the intellectual powers as a whole may be 
exercised and grow, a higher form of retentiveness is 
needed. The traces of the products of intellectual activity 
must accumulate and appear under the form of revivals or 
reproductions. The impressions of sense, when discrimi- 
nated, are in this way recalled as mental images. This 
retention and revival of the products of the early sense- 
discrimination is clearly necessary to the higher operations 
of thought. Images, though the product of elementary 
processes of discrimination and assimilation, supply in 
their turn the material for the more elaborate processes of 
thought. We thus see that the growing complexity of the 
intellectual life depends on the accumulation of innumer- 
able traces of past and simpler products of intellectual 
activity. 

Grouping of Parts : Laws of Association. — 
Closely connected with this fundamental property of re- 
tentiveness, there is another involved in this process of 
intellectual development. The growth of intellect, as we 
have seen, leads to an increasing complexity of the prod- 
ucts. This means that the several elements are com- 
bined or grouped in certain ways. This grouping goes on 
according to the laws of association. These laws will be 
fully discussed by-and-by. Here it is enough to say that 
there are two principal modes of grouping, and corre- 

* The term habit is commonly confined to actions which have grown 
customary, and so mechanical. But the principle of habit is illustrated 
in each of the three directions of mental development. Some writers 
distinguish between passive habits, the effects of custom on feeling, and 
active habits, its effects on action. In connection with education, Locke 
uses the term habit generally as expressing the result of practice. See 
" Thoughts concerning Education," edited by Rev. R. H. Quick ; In- 
troduction, p. liv. 



52 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

sponding laws of association of mental elements, (a) 
according to their nearness or contiguity in time, and {b) 
according to their similarity. The first mode will be the 
one principally illustrated in the earlier stages of develop- 
ment (perception and imagination) ; the second, the one 
mainly concerned in the later stages (thought). 

Development of Feeling and Willing.— While, for 
the sake of simplicity, we have confined our attention to 
the development of intellect, it is necessary to add that the 
same features and the same underlying principles are dis- 
coverable in the growth of feeling and will. The earlier 
feelings (bodily pleasures and pains) are simple and 
closely connected with the senses : the higher feelings 
(emotions) are complex and representative in character. 
Again, the first actions (bodily movements) are simple and 
external, being immediate responses to sense-impressions, 
whereas the later are complex, internal and representative 
(choosing, resolving, etc.). It will be found, further, that 
there is a continuity of process throughout the develop- 
ment of each. And the same laws or conditions, growth 
by exercise, retentiveness and association, are illustrated 
here as in the case of intellectual development. 

Interdependence of Processes. — We have so far 
viewed the growth of intellect, of feeling, and of volition as 
processes going on apart, independently of one another. 
And this is in a measure a correct assumption. It has, 
however, already been pointed out that mind is an organic 
unity, and that the processes of knowing, feeling, and will- 
ing in a measure involve one another. It follows from this 
that the developments of these phases of mind will be 
closely connected. Thus, intellectual development presup- 
poses a certain measure of emotional and volitional devel- 
opment. There would be no attainments in knowledge if 
the connected interest (curiosity, love of knowledge) and 
active impulses (concentration, application) had not been 
developed. Similarly, there can be no development of the 



GROWTH AND DEVELOPMENT. 53 

life of feeling without a considerable accumulation of 
knowledge about Nature and man ; nor can there be 
any development of action without a development of feel- 
ing and the accumulation of a store of practical knowl- 
edge. The mind may develop much more on one side 
than on the others, but development on one side without 
any development on the others is an impossibility. 

This connectedness of one side of development with 
the others may be illustrated in the close dependence of 
intellectual growth on the exercise and improvement of 
the power of attention. Though related to the active or 
volitional side of mind, attention is a prime condition of 
intellectual operations. Mental activity includes in every 
case some form of attention ; and the higher kinds of 
mental activity illustrate the full exercise of the will in 
the shape of an effort of concentration. This being so, 
intellectual growth, which, as we have seen, is the imme- 
diate outcome of mental activity, is closely dependent on 
the development of will. It is the improvement of the 
power of voluntary concentration which makes success- 
ively possible accurate observation, steady reproduction, 
and all that we mean by thinking. 

This dependence of one phase of mental development 
on the other phases is not, however, equally close in all 
cases. Thus the growth of knowing involves compara- 
tively little of the emotional and volitional element. The 
growth of feeling in its higher forms involves considerable 
intellectual development, but no corresponding degree of 
volitional development. Finally, the growth of will is 
largely dependent on that of knowing and feeling. Hence, 
in the order of exposition, we set out with the development 
of knowing, passing then to that of feeling, and finally to 
that of willing. 

Growth and Development of the Brain. — Just as, 
in studying mental operations at a particular time, we 
have to include in our view nervous concomitants, so in 



54 



MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 



studying mental de/elopment we must ask what changes 
in the nervous organism, and more particularly in the 
brain-centers, accompany these psychical changes. 

The brain, like all other parts of the organism, grows in 
bulk or size, and develops or manifests certain changes in 
its formation or structure, viz. : increasing unlikeness of 
parts and intricacy of arrangements among these. The 
two processes, growth and development, do not progress 
with the same degree of rapidity. The size nearly attains 
its maximum about the end of the seventh year, whereas 
the degree of structural development reached at this time 
is not much above that of the embryonic condition.* It 
may be added that the higher centers of thought and vo- 
lition develop later than those of sensation. 

The brain, being an organ closely connected with the 
rest of the bodily organism, would tend to grow to a cer- 
tain extent with the growth of the organism as a whole, 
and independently of any activity of its own. But such 
growth would be rudimentary only. Like all other organs, 
it grows and develops by exercise. This physiological 
law is clearly the counterpart of the psychological law that 
exercise strengthens faculty. Such exercises tend to 
modify the brain structures in some way, so as to dis- 
pose them afterward to act more readily in the same man- 
ner. 

Factors in Development. — The process of mental 
growth just traced out is brought about by the co-opera- 
tion of two sets of agencies or factors — the mind itself 
which develops, and the circumstances necessary to its 
development. These maybe marked off, as the internal 
and the external factor. 

(A) Internal Factor. — This consists first of all of 

the simple and fundamental capabilities of the mind. 

Thus it includes the several simple modes of sensibility 

to light, sound, and so on. Further, it embraces the fun- 

* See Bastian, " The Brain as an Organ of Mind," p. 375. 



THE SOCIAL ENVIRONMENT. 



55 



damental intellectual functions, discrimination, and assim- 
ilation. In like manner it will include the primary or 
fundamental capacities of feeling, and powers of willing. 
The internal factor includes, too, the mind's native im- 
pulse to activity and spontaneous tendency to develop- 
ment. 

(B) External Factor, (i) Natural Environ- 
ment. — In the second place, the development of an ind> 
vidual mind implies the presence and co-operation of the 
external factor, or the environment. By this we mean, in 
the first place, the physical environment or natural sur- 
roundings. The growth of intelligence presupposes a 
world of sights and sounds, etc., to supply the materials 
of knowledge. The mind of a child deprived of these 
would languish for want of its appropriate nutriment. 
Similarly, the development of the feelings, for example, of 
fear, awe, the sense of beauty, etc., depends on the pres- 
ence and action of natural objects. Finally, the will is 
called forth to activity by the action of the forces of the 
natural environment, and by the need of reacting on it 
and modifying it. 

(2) The Social Environment. — In addition to 
what we commonly call the natural or physical environ- 
ment, there is the human and social environment. By this 
we mean the society of which the individual is a member, 
with which he holds certain relations, and by which he is 
profoundly influenced. The social medium, like the phys- 
ical, affects the individual mind through sense-impres- 
sions (sights and sounds) ; yet its action differs from that 
of the natural surroundings in being a moral influence. It 
works through the forces which bind the individual to 
other individuals and to the community, such as imita- 
tion, sympathy, and the sentiment of obedience or author- 
ity. 

The presence of a social medium is necessary to a full 
normal development of mind. If it were possible to main- 



5 6 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

tain a child in bodily health and at the same time deprive 
him of all companionship, his mental development would be 
but rudimentary. The child comes under the stimulation, 
the guidance, and the control of others, and these influ- 
ences are essential to a normal mental development. Thus, 
his intellectual growth is determined by continual contact 
and interaction with the social intelligence, the body of 
knowledge amassed by the race, and expressed in every- 
day speech, in books, etc. Similarly, the feelings of the 
child quicken and grow under the touch of social senti- 
ment. And finally the will is called forth, stimulated and 
guided by the habitual modes of action of those about him. 
These social influences embrace a wider area as life pro- 
gresses. Beginning with the action of the family, they go 
on expanding by including the influences of the school, of 
companions, and finally of the whole community, as work- 
ing through manners, public opinion, and so forth. 

Undesigned and Designed Influence of Society. 
— A part of this social influence acts undesignedly, that 
is, without any intention to accomplish a result. The ef- 
fects of contact of mind with mind, of example, of the pre- 
vailing tone of a family or a society, all this resembles the 
action of natural or physical agencies. On the other hand, 
a considerable remainder of this influence is clearly de- 
signed. To this part belong all the mechanism of instruc- 
tion, the arts of suasion, moral and legal control, etc. 

Both kinds of social influence co-operate in each of the 
three great phases of mental development. Thus the in- 
tellect of a child grows partly under the influence of con- 
tact with the social intelligence reflecting itself in the 
structure of language ; and partly by the aid of systematic 
instruction. Similarly, feeling develops partly through the 
mere contact with other minds, or the agencies of sympa- 
thy, and partly by direct appeals from others. Finally, 
the will develops partly by the attraction of example and 
the impulses of imitation, and partly by the forces of sua- 



VARIETIES OF DEVELOPMENT. 



57 



sion, advice, reproof, and the whole system of moral dis- 
cipline. 

Scheme of Development. — The reader may perhaps 
be able the better to comprehend the above rough theory 
of mental development by help of the following diagram : 

Fig. 4. 




Varieties of Development.— While all normally 
constituted minds pass through the same typical course of 
development, there are endless differences in the details 
of the mental history of individuals. In no two cases, 
indeed, is the process of mental growth precisely similar. 
These diversities of mental history answer to the differ- 
ences between mind and mind spoken of in the previous 
chapter. Such differences of development may be referred 
to one or two causes of factors : (a) variations or inequali- 



58 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

ties of original capacity, or {b) differences in the external 
circumstances, physical and social. All differences in the 
final result, that is, the mature or developed aptitude or 
capacity, must be assignable to one (or both) of these fac- 
tors. 

It is important to observe that differences of original 
capacity include all inequalities in mental energy and 
capability of development. As every teacher knows, the 
instruments of education applied to two children, at ap- 
proximately the same level of attainment, result in widely 
unlike amounts of progress. Such inequalities in capa- 
bility of mental growth turn mainly on differences in the 
degree of mental activity, and, next to this, on different 
degrees of retentive power. 

Differences of Original Capacity. — In ascertaining 
these we must be careful to separate off only what is 
strictly original, and not in any measure the result of pre- 
vious training or other kind of external influence. Now, 
we can not altogether eliminate the effect of early influ- 
ences ; yet we can reduce this to a minimum by taking 
the child soon enough, or by selecting for our experiment 
a sufficiently new mode of mental operation. 

Such a method of comparative measurement applied 
to young children would undoubtedly confirm the every- 
day observation of parents and teachers alike, that chil- 
dren are at birth endowed with very unequal degrees of 
capacity of different kinds. Each individual has his par- 
ticular proportion of aptitudes and tendencies, which con- 
stitute his nature or his natural character, as distinguished 
from his later and partly acquired character. This nat- 
ural character is doubtless very closely connected with 
the peculiar make of his bodily, and more particularly his 
nervous organism. The condition of the sense-organs, of 
the brain, of the muscular system, and even of the lower 
vital organs, all serves to determine what we call the na- 
tive idiosyncrasy or temperament of the individual. 



COMMON AND SPECIAL HEREDITY. 



59 



The Law of Heredity. — According to modern sci- 
ence these original differences are, in part at least, illustra- 
tions of the principle of heredity. This principle states 
that physical and mental peculiarities tend to be trans- 
mitted from parents to children. Just as bodily features 
reappear in parents and children, so intellectual and moral 
traits persist in the shape of inherited mental dispositions. 
These are handed down in connection with certain pecul- 
iarities of the brain and nervous system. 

Common and Special Heredity. — The principle of 
heredity manifests itself in different ways. In one sense 
we may say that our common human nature, with its 
typical physical organism and its several mental suscepti- 
bilities and capabilities, is inherited, that is, transmitted 
to each new member of the species. But, as customarily 
employed, the term heredity refers to the transmission of 
physical or mental peculiarities which have somehow 
been acquired by the individual's ancestors. This trans- 
mission of acquired characteristics assumes a wider or 
a narrower form. Its widest range is seen in the alleged 
fact that the offspring of civilized races have from the first 
a higher intellectual and moral endowment than those of 
uncivilized, having certain original or instinctive disposi- 
tions to think, feel, and act in the ways that have become 
habitual with civilized mankind. According to this view, 
as civilization progresses and education improves, native 
capacity tends to slowly increase, and this gradual increase 
constitutes one factor in the upward progress of the spe- 
cies. Again, members of one particular race or national- 
ity, as Celts or Frenchmen, appear to inherit distinct phys- 
ical and mental traits. Still more plainly the members 
of one family may often be observed to present similar 
mental as well as bodily characteristics through a number 
of generations. These mental peculiarities are partly in- 
tellectual, partly emotional, and partly active, referring to 
differences in strength of will, etc. An interesting exam- 



60 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

pie of this is occasionally to be met with in the transmis- 
sion of a definite kind of talent through generations of a 
given family, as, for example, of musical talent in the Bach 
family.* 

It is evident, however, that the members of one family 
show marked diversities as well as similarities. We often 
remark very striking contrasts of ideas, feelings, and incli- 
nations among children of the same family. Such con- 
trasts may sometimes be only another illustration of the 
action of heredity, some members of the family represent- 
ing certain ancestral traits, other members, other traits. 
But this can not be safely maintained in the majority of 
instances. In the present stage of our knowledge of the 
subject, heredity only helps us to account for a compara- 
tively few among the host of peculiarities which go to 
make up the natural basis of an individual character. We 
have to recognize along with this another tendency, namely, 
to individual variation. 

Varieties of External Influence. — While original 
peculiarities of nature or temperament thus play a consid- 
erable part in individual development, they are not the 
sole agency at work. Differences in the surroundings, 
physical and still more social, have a good deal to do with 
the differences of ability and character that we find among 
individuals. 

The important thing to bear in mind here is that no 
two individuals ever come under the same influences. 
Even twins, who are born into the same family at the same 
time, have an unlike social environment from the first. 
Their own mother is hardly likely to feel toward them or 
to treat them in quite the same way ; and others show this 
divergence of feeling and behavior very much more. As 
life progresses, the sum of external influences, serving to 

* For fuller illustrations of such transmission of definite ability, see 
Mr. F. Galton's work, " Hereditary Genius " ; cf. Prof. Th. Ribot's 
volume, "On Heredity." 



VARIETIES OF EXTERNAL INFLUENCE. 6 1 

differentiate individual character, increases. The school, 
the place of business, the circle of friends, and so on, all 
help to give a peculiar stamp to the individual mind. 

That even such slight differences in surroundings must 
produce an effect follows from psychological laws. The 
mind grows on what it assimilates. The lines of its growth 
will be to some extent predetermined by innate capabili- 
ties and tendencies ; but these only broadly limit the pro- 
cess, they do not fix its precise character. The particular 
ideas and connections of ideas formed, the intellectual 
habits fixed, the peculiar coloring of the feelings, and the 
special lines of the conduct will all be determined by the 
character of the surroundings. 

It is impossible, in the present state of our knowledge, 
to say how much of the diversity of intelligence and char- 
acter that we find among men is referable to native dif- 
ferences, how much to the effects of surroundings, more 
particularly social surroundings. The older psychology 
of Locke overlooked the effects of native differences, of 
individual nature. To Locke all men were born with 
equal abilities, and the differences were due to experience 
and education. The newer psychology rightly insists on 
the existence of these original differences, on the effects 
of "nature" as distinguished from "nurture."* There 
is no doubt that similar experiences and outer influences 
do not produce precisely identical results. At the same 
time, it is possible that we of to-day are apt to underesti- 

* The importance of original differences of intellectual aptitude and 
emotional disposition has just been insisted on with great force of argu- 
ment by Mr. F. Galton in his curious volume, " Inquiries into Human 
Faculty and its Development." See " Nurture and Nature," p. 177, 
etc. An illustration of the strength and pertinacity of original tend- 
encies is very clearly brought out in the " History of Twins," p. 216, et 
seq. Mr. Galton takes cases of twins who were much alike, and also 
of twins who were distinctly unlike, and he seeks to show that in both 
cases the final result is largely determined by nature and not by nur- 
ture. 



62 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

mate the effects of surroundings, and more particularly of 
early bringing up. It is true, of course, that there never 
is anything in the finished mental product, the mature 
mind and character, which was not present potentially at 
the outset. It is also true that all growth is the immediate 
outcome of the mind's own exertion and activity. Still, 
it may be said that the special external circumstances of 
the individual life were needed to evoke and nurture these 
latent germs of ability, and to call forth and direct that 
activity. 

It is common to say that men of genius are independ- 
ent of their surroundings, that their powers germinate and 
fructify in spite of unfavorable surroundings. This is true 
in a sense. The stronger the native intellectual bent, the 
more strenuous the mental exertions, the more independ- 
ent is the mind of its surroundings; or, to put it more 
accurately, the more readily will it create a favorable en- 
vironment (companions, books, etc.) for itself. In aver- 
age cases, however, when there is no such powerful and 
predominant impulse, it is the actual surroundings, and 
particularly the early influences of the home and the school, 
which determine which of the potential aptitudes and in- 
clinations shall be fostered into life and vigor. 

The Teacher and the Social Environment. — 
From the foregoing we see that education fulfills an im- 
portant function among the influences presupposed in 
development. The intellectual and moral culture of the 
home constitutes a prime ingredient in the sum of the 
influences of the social environment. The influence of the 
school-teacher, though much more restricted on the emo- 
tional and moral side, is the most important of the external 
stimuli to intellectual progress. As Pestalozzi has pointed 
out, the teacher stands in place of the parent, having to 
carry forward, in a more thorough and systematic manner, 
and to a much higher point than the qualifications and 
the opportunities of the parent commonly allow, the early 



TRAINING OF THE FACULTIES. 63 

intellectual instruction of the home ; and, regarded in this 
light, his work is eminently a natural one, being the out- 
growth of the instinct of instruction which shows itself in 
germ in the lower animals, and in man is inseparately in- 
tertwined with the parental feelings and instincts. Viewed 
in another way, the teacher represents not merely the par- 
ent but the community. This he does by aiming at pre- 
paring the learner in intelligence, and, as far as possible, 
in character, to properly fill his future place in the com- 
munity ; and by bringing to bear for this purpose all the 
resources of the knowledge which has become the heritage 
of the present from the past, as well as a type of character 
which represents as clearly as possible the highest moral 
progress yet attained by man. 

Training of the Faculties. — The systematic pro- 
cedure of the teacher is implied in the word training. 
This involves the putting of the child in such circum- 
stances, and surrounding it by such influences, as will 
serve to call the faculty into exercise, or, as has already 
been pointed out, the supplying of the intellect with ma- 
terials to work upon, or nutriment to be assimilated, to- 
gether with the application of a stimulus or motive to 
exertion. It means, too, the continuous or periodic exer- 
cise of the faculty, with the definite purpose of strengthen- 
ing it, and advancing its growth. 

Such training must clearly be based on a knowledge of 
the laws of mental development. Thus it has to conform 
to the great law of all growth, that it is appropriate exer- 
cise which strengthens faculty. That is to say, it will aim 
directly at calling forth a faculty into its proper mode of 
action by supplying materials and motives adapted to the 
stage of development reached at the time. Training may 
be said to be adapted when it supplies an adequate but 
not excessive stimulation of the faculty. By adequate 
stimulation is here meant an excitation of sufficient 
strength and variety to secure completeness of growth. A 



64 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 

boy's memory or understanding is not properly trained if 
very easy tasks are assigned which fail to rouse the faculty 
to full activity. By excessive stimulation is meant an 
amount of excitation which forces the activity to such a 
point as is unfavorable to growth. Thus, when a boy is 
set to master a problem in Euclid beyond his powers of 
reasoning the task, by baffling effort and confusing the 
mind, is distinctly adverse to intellectual progress. It fol- 
lows that all good training must be progressive, the tasks 
becoming more difficult pari passu with the growth of 
ability. 

In the second place, the whole scheme of training 
should conform to the natural order of development of 
the faculties. Those faculties which develop first must be 
exercised first. It is vain, for example, to try to cultivate 
the power of abstraction, by subjects like grammar, before 
the powers of observation (perception) and imagination 
have reached a certain degree of strength. This self-evi- 
dent proposition is one of the best accepted principles in 
the modern theory of education, though there is reason to 
apprehend that it is still frequently violated in practice. 

Once more, a method of training based on scientific 
principles will aim not only at taking up a faculty at the 
right moment, but also at cultivating it up to the proper 
point, and not beyond this. By this point is meant the 
level which answers to its rank or value in the whole 
scale of faculties. Thus, for example, in training the 
memory or the imagination we should inquire into its 
precise importance in relation to the attainment of knowl- 
edge and intellectual culture as a whole, and give to its 
exercise and development a proportionate amount of 
attention. 

The perfect following out of this principle is that 
harmonious development of the whole mind on which 
Pestalozzi and others have laid emphasis. The educator 
must ever keep before him the ideal of a complete man, 



TRAINING OF THE FACULTIES. 65 

strong and well-developed physically, intellectually, and 
morally, and, so far as practicable, assign a proportionate 
amount of time and exercise to the development of each 
side of the child's being. 

Finally, training, in order to be adequate, must be to 
some extent elastic, adapting itself to the numerous dif- 
ferences among young minds. Up to a certain point a 
common result, namely, a typical completeness of develop- 
ment, will be aimed at. It would not be well, for ex- 
ample, that any child, however unimaginative, should 
have his imagination wholly untrained. At the same 
time this typical plan of cultivation must be modified in 
detail. The greater the natural aptitude, the more eco- 
nomical the production of a given psychical result. Hence 
it would be wasteful to give as much time and thought to 
the training of a bad as of a good germ of faculty. Nor 
do the practical ends of life impose such a disagreeable 
task on the teacher. Variety of individual development 
is in itself valuable, and moreover answers to the highly 
elaborated division of life-work or differentiation of life- 
function which characterizes civilization. The problem of 
respecting individuality in educating the young, of secur- 
ing a sufficient diversity of studies in our school system, 
is probably one of the most urgent practical educational 
problems of the hour. 

APPENDIX. 

For a fuller account of the nature and causes of mental develop- 
ment the reader is referred to Mr. Spencer's " Principles of Psy- 
chology," especially vol i, parts iii and iv. A brief statement of the 
characteristics of development, as bearing on the work of the teacher, 
will be found in Mr. Spencer's essay, "Education," chap. ii. The 
subject has also been discussed from an educational point of view by 
Beneke, " Erziehungslehre," i, p. 101, etc., and by G. F. Pfisterer, 
" Psedagogische Psychologie," § 2. 



CHAPTER VI. 

ATTENTION. 

Place of Attention in Mind. — Attention enters as 
an important condition into all classes of mental opera- 
tion. There is no distinct thinking, no vivid feeling, and 
no deliberate action without attention. This co-operation 
of attention is specially conspicuous in the case of intellect- 
ual operations. The objects which present themselves to 
our senses are only clearly discriminated one from the 
other, and classed as objects of such and such a class, 
when we attend to them. So again, present impressions 
only exercise their full force in calling up what is as- 
sociated with them when we keep them before the. mind 
by an act of attention. Once more, all abstract thinking 
is clearly an active state of mind involving a voluntary 
fixing of the attention. We thus see that attention, though 
a form of action, and in its higher developments presup- 
posing an effort of will, stands in the closest relation to 
intellectual operations. It is co-operation of the active 
side of mind in intellectual processes, and it is one of the 
great determining forces of intellectual development. 
This being so, it is desirable to give a brief account of 
it before entering on the exposition of intellect, reserving 
the exposition of its higher forms till we come to consider 
the nature of volition. 

Definition of Attention. — Attention may be roughly 
defined as the active self-direction of the mind to any 



PLACE OF ATTENTION IN MIND. 6j 

material or object which presents itself to it at the mo- 
ment.* It thus means somewhat the same as the mind's 
" consciousness " of what is present to it. The field of 
attention, however, is narrower than that of consciousness. 
I may be very vaguely or indistinctly conscious of some 
bodily sensation, as hunger, of some haunting recollection, 
and so on, without making it the object of attention. At- 
tention involves an intensification of consciousness, a con- 
centration or narrowing of it on some definite and re- 
stricted portion of the mental scene ; or, to express it 
otherwise, it implies a turning of the mental eye in a par- 
ticular direction so as to see the objects lying in that 
quarter as distinctly as possible. \ 

As an active tension of mind, attention is opposed to 
that relaxed state of mind in which there is no conscious 
exertion to fix the gaze on any particular object. This 
answers to what the teacher is wont to call inattention. 
It is a state of listlessness or drowsiness as compared with 
one of activity and wakefulness. 

Directions of Attention. — Attention follows one of 
two main directions ; that is, is directed to one of two 
great fields of objects, (i) The first region is that of ex- 
ternal impressions, the sights, sounds, etc., which make 
up the world of sense. When the teacher talks about 
"attending," he commonly means actively listening, or 
actively looking. This is the direction of attention out- 
ward, or external attention. (2) In addition to external 
impressions, internal images, ideas and thoughts, may be 
attended to. This constitutes the second main direction 
of attention, or internal attention. All intellectual atten- 

* The reader must be careful to distinguish between " object of 
attention " and " external object," as we commonly understand it. As 
we shall see presently, the former, though including the latter, is a 
much wider domain than this. " 

f The idea of mental activity in the full sense, or mental tension, is 
directly suggested by the etymology of the word, ad tendere, to stretch 
(sc, the mind toward). 



68 ATTENTION. 

tion, that is to say, attention engaged in the processes of 
learning or coming to know about things, is attention 
directed either to external impressions or to internal 
ideas. So far as we attend to feelings of pleasure and 
pain we appear to do so by fixing the attention on the ex- 
citing cause of the feeling, which must be either an exter- 
nal object or an internal idea. Finally, in attending to 
our actions, we fix our minds on the idea of the result 
which we are immediately aiming at. Thus, in every 
case, the object of attention is some external impression, 
or internal idea, or thought. 

Effects of Attention. — The immediate effect of an 
act of attention serves to give greater force, vividness, and 
distinctness to its object. Thus an impression of sound, as 
the tolling of a bell, becomes more forcible, and has its 
character made more definite, when we direct our atten- 
tion to it. A thought, a recollection, is rendered distinct 
by attending to it. The intensification of consciousness 
in one particular direction produces thus an increase of 
illumination, and so subserves the clear perception and 
understanding of things. 

Attention produces striking effects on the feelings. A 
serious bodily injury may hardly trouble our mind, if 
through some exceptional excitement it is hindered from 
attending to it. Thus it is known that soldiers wounded 
in battle have hardly felt any pain at the moment. On 
the other hand, a very moderate sensation of discomfort, 
as an irritation of the skin, grows into something intensely 
disagreeable if the attention is fastened on the particular 
bodily locality affected. Finally, our actions grow more 
vigorous and energetic as well as more precise when we 
give our attention to the objects aimed at.* 

Physiology of Attention. — The seat of attention 
appears to be situated in the higher region of the nerve- 

* For some curious illustrations of the effects of attention, see Dr. 
Carpenter's " Mental Physiology," chap. iii. 



EXTENT OF ATTENTION. 69 

centers in the cerebral hemispheres. The mechanism of 
attention probably involves an intensification of nervous 
activity in certain regions of the brain, which is effected 
by means of an impulse sent forth from the supreme con- 
trolling centers. In this way, for example, the nerve- 
centers employed in hearing are thrown into a state of 
exceptional excitability when we listen to somebody read- 
ing or singing. Along with this concentration of nerve- 
energy in certain definite regions of the brain, the act of 
external attention involves important muscular adjust- 
ments, such as directing the eye to an object, which are 
necessary to the reception of distinct sense-impressions. 

Extent of Attention. — All attention is a narrowing 
of the range of mental activity and to a certain extent a 
concentration or focusing of the mind on a given point. 
But all acts of attention do not embrace equal areas or 
extents. Just as in looking at a landscape we may fix the 
eye on a smaller or larger portion of the scene, so the 
mind may direct itself to a smaller or larger area of 
object. 

In general it may be said that the more things we try 
to include in our mental gaze the less distinct is the 
result. This is seen plainly in all efforts to attend to a 
variety of disconnected things at one time, as when we 
are reading a book and listening to a conversation. " One 
thing at a time " is the law of mental activity, and the 
performing of distinct mental occupations is only possible 
where repetition and habit exempt us from close attention, 
as in carrying on some familiar manual operation and 
listening to another's words. 

Where, however, we have to do with a number of con- 
nected impressions or objects of attention, we are able to 
a certain extent to include them in one view. Thus we 
can attend to the features of a face in their relations of 
proportion, to a succession of musical sounds in their re- 
lations of rhythm, etc. This grasp of a number of parts, 



70 



ATTENTION. 



details, or members of a group, is greatly facilitated by a 
rapid transition of the mental glance from one detail to 
another, as in running over the various features of an 
artistic design, or the succeeding steps of an argument. 

On what the Degree of Attention depends. — 
The amount of attention exerted at any time depends on 
two chief circumstances : (a) the quantity of nervous 
energy disposable at the time ; {b) the strength of the 
stimulus which excites the attention or rouses it to action. 
If there is great active energy, a feeble stimulus will suffice 
to bring about attention. A healthy, vigorous child, in the 
early part of the day, has a superabundance of energy 
which shows itself in attention to small and comparatively 
uninteresting matters. Indeed, his activity prompts him 
to seek objects of attention in his surroundings. On the 
other hand, a tired or weakly child requires a powerful 
stimulus to rouse his mental activity. 

External and Internal Stimuli. — The stimulus to 
an act of attention may be either something external, con- 
nected with the object attended to, or something internal. 
An external stimulus consists of some interesting or strik- 
ing feature in the object itself, or in its accompaniments, 
by reason of which the attention is said to be attracted 
and arrested, as when a child's attention is excited by the 
brilliance of a light, or the strangeness of a sound. An 
internal stimulus is a motive in the mind which prompts 
it to put forth its attention in a particular direction, such 
as the desire of a child to please his teacher, or to gain a 
higher place in his class. 

Non-Voluntary and Voluntary Attention. — When 
the mind is acted upon by the mere force of the object 
presented, the act of attention is said to be non-voluntary.* 
It may also be called reflex (or automatic) because it bears 

* The term non-voluntary is preferred to involuntary, as indicating 
the mere absence of volition, and not opposition to will or " unwilling- 
ness." 



LAW OF CONTRAST AND NOVELTY. yi 

a striking analogy to reflex movement, that is to say, move- 
ment following sensory stimulation without the interven- 
tion of a conscious purpose. On the other hand, when 
we attend to a thing under the impulse of a desire, such 
as curiosity or a wish to know about a thing, we are said 
to do so by an act of will, or voluntarily. These two modes 
of attention, though properly distinguished one from an- 
other, are both acts of the mind, and will be found to shade 
off one into the other in our actual mental life. 

Reflex Attention. — This is the earlier form of atten- 
tion, and the one with which the teacher is specially con- 
cerned in the first stages of instruction. Here the direc- 
tion of the attention is determined for the mind rather 
than by the mind. It follows the lead of the attractive 
force which happens to work at the time. 

In its simplest form attention is a momentary direction 
of the attention due to the action of a powerful sensory 
stimulus, as a brilliant light, a loud sound, etc. Every 
teacher knows the value of a strong emphatic mode of 
utterance in commanding the attention ; and this effect is 
partly due to the action of strong sensuous impressions in 
rousing mental activity. 

Law of Contrast and Novelty.— This momentary 
direction of the attention is governed by the law of change 
or contrast. According to this principle, an unvarying 
impression, if prolonged, fails to produce a mental effect. 
The constant noise of the mill soon ceases to be noticed 
by one who lives near it. This is partly due to the fact 
that a prolonged powerful stimulus fatigues the nerve-cen- 
ter and renders it less responsive. But, in addition to 
this, a prolonged impression, even if a powerful one, loses 
its effect because it ceases to exert an attractive force on 
the attention. Hence, the teacher who continually or very 
frequently addresses his class in loud tones, misses the 
advantage of an occasional raising of the voice. 

On the other hand, a sudden change of impression, as 



72 A TTENTION. 

when a light is brought into a dark room, or the report of 
a gun breaks the stillness of the country, acts as a power- 
ful excitant to the attention. For the same reason a strong 
contrast of impression, as between high and low, soft and 
loud in music, bright and dark colors, and so forth, is an 
excitant to the attention. 

Novelty, so powerful a force in childhood and a con- 
siderable force throughout life, is only a further illustra- 
tion of the law of change. For something new attracts 
the attention, because it stands in contrast with our ordi- 
nary surroundings and experience. It stimulates and ex- 
cites the mind very much as a startling contrast. 

Interest. — When it is said that we only attend to what 
interests us, there is a reference to the excitation of a cer- 
tain amount of feeling. This feeling acts as a force in ar- 
resting the attention and keeping it fixed for an apprecia- 
ble time. Attention to what interests us is thus always 
something more than the momentary direction of atten- 
tion. This feeling of interest may arise in different ways. 

(i) In the first place, interest is excited when the ob- 
ject is in itself pretty or beautiful, and so fitted to give 
immediate pleasure or gratification in the very act of 
attending to it. Thus, an infant will keep its eyes fixed 
for a time on the lamp brought into the room, because of 
its pleasurable effect. The production of pleasure, in con- 
nection with any mode of activity, tends, as we shall see 
by-and-by, to intensify and prolong this activity. This 
forms the germ of aesthetic interest. 

(2) Another great source of interest in things is their 
connection with what is pleasurable or painful in our past 
experience. The infant shows the most vivid interest in 
such sights as the preparation of its food, its bath, etc. 
A child will listen to whatever bears on its familiar pleas- 
ures, its favorite possessions and companions, its amuse- 
ments, etc. In all states of fear, again, we see the atten- 
tion closely engaged by that which bears on pain or suffer- 



FAMILIARITY AND INTEREST. 73 

ing. This effect of a connection or association with what 
is pleasurable or painful in riveting the attention underlies 
what we mark off as practical interest. 

(3) Lastly, interest may assume a more distinctly in- 
tellectual form, involving the germ of a wish to understand a 
thing, and the desire for knowledge as such. This intellect- 
ual interest is what we commonly call curiosity. It springs 
up in different ways. It arises most naturally out of a feeling 
of wonder at what is new, strange, and mysterious, as 
when a child sees a light go out in a bottle filled with car- 
bonic acid, and wants to know the cause. In many cases, 
however, it takes its rise in the feeling of delight produced 
by what is beautiful, as when a child is interested in know- 
ing about a lovely flower or bird. Finally, this intellectual 
interest is greatly promoted by the principle of associa- 
tion. The direction of children's curiosity follows to a 
large extent the lead of association. What is seen to have 
a bearing on the child's pleasures and practical aims tends 
to become the object of a genuine intellectual curiosity. 

Familiarity and Interest. — It follows from this 
that mere novelty, though a powerful stimulus to the at- 
tention, and capable of leading on to curiosity, is rarely if 
ever sufficient to detain and fix the attention in a pro- 
longed act or attitude. What is absolutely strange and 
consequently unsuggestive to the child's mind is apt to be 
a matter of indifference. In walking down a new street, 
for example, a child will as a rule notice those things 
which in some way remind him of, and connect themselves 
with, what he already knows and likes, e. g., the harness in 
the saddler's shop.* While, therefore, the principle of 
change tells us that perfect familiarity with a subject is 
fatal to interest, the laws of intellectual interest tell us 
that a measure of familiarity is essential. The principle 

* See the interesting account of the want of interest in London 
sights manifested by some Esquimaux who visited our capital, given 
by Miss Edgeworth, " Practical Education," ii, p. 118. 
4 



74 



A TTENTION. 



of modern intellectual education, that there should be a 
gradual transition from the known to the unknown, is thus 
seen to correspond not only with the necessities of intellect- 
ual movement and development, but also with the natural 
laws of development of those feelings of interest which in- 
spire attention and so call the intellectual faculties into play. 

Transition to Voluntary Attention. — The devel- 
opment of interest and curiosity forms a natural transition 
from non-voluntary to voluntary attention. The prolonga- 
tion of the act of attention implies a germ of volition. 
Thus the maintenance of the expectant attitude of mind 
by a class, when the teacher is presenting interesting ma- 
terials, is due to a vague anticipation of coming gratifica- 
tion and a desire to realize this. Here, then, we see how 
gradually the earlier and lower form passes into the later 
and higher. In supplying interesting matter to his class, 
and exciting a feeling of pleasurable interest, the teacher 
is preparing the way for the exercises of the will in what is 
called voluntary attention. 

Function of the Will in Attention. — It is impossi- 
ble at this stage to explain the whole nature of voluntary 
attention. As a mode of will or volition it obeys the laws 
of volition, which will be expounded later on. Here it 
must suffice to indicate the effects of voluntary action in 
enlarging the sphere and otherwise modifying the charac- 
ter of attention. 

To begin with, then, what is called voluntary attention 
is not a wholly new phase of the process. After the ac- 
tion of the will has supervened, the forces of non-voluntary 
attention continue to be active as tendeticies. And the 
range of the will's action is limited by these. Thus the 
student most practiced in abstraction finds that there is 
some force of external stimulus, as the allurement of a 
beautiful melody sung within his hearing, against which 
his will is impotent. 

Again, though we can undoubtedly (within certain 



FUNCTION OF THE WILL IN ATTENTION. 75 

limits) direct our attention in this or that quarter at will, 
we have not the power to keep our attention closely and 
persistently fixed on any object which we (or somebody 
else for us) may happen to select. Something further is 
necessary to that lively interaction of mind and object 
which we call a state of attention ; and this is interest. 
By an act of will a person may resolve to turn his atten- 
tion to something, say a passage in a book. But if, after 
this preliminary process of adjustment of the mental eye, 
the subject-matter opens up no interesting phase, no effort 
of volition will produce a calm, settled state of concentra- 
tion. The will introduces mind and object : it can not 
force an attachment between them. No compulsion of a 
teacher ever succeeded in making a young mind cordially 
embrace and appropriate by an act of concentration an 
unsuitable, and therefore uninteresting subject. We thus 
see that voluntary attention is not removed from the sway 
of interest. What the will does is to determine the kind 
of interest which shall prevail at the moment. 

The importance of this initial action of will, in deter- 
mining the direction of attention, depends on the fact that 
in many cases a strong interest is only developed after the 
mind and the subject-matter have remained in contact 
awhile. Many subjects do not disclose their attractions 
at once and on the surface, but only after they have been 
more closely examined. Thus the charm of a poem or of 
a geometrical problem makes itself felt gradually. Hence, 
if a child can be induced to exercise his will at the outset, 
under the influence of some internal motive disconnected 
with the subject, as the desire to please his parents or 
teacher, or to gain some tangible advantage from the 
study, he will often come under the spell of new and un- 
suspected varieties of interest. Indeed, the taking up of 
any new branch of study illustrates this gradual substitu- 
tion of an easy, agreeable activity for a comparatively hard 
and disagreeable one. 



76 ATTENTION. 

Growth of Attention : Early Stage. — After this 
account of the nature and laws of attention and its two 
chief forms, a few words will suffice to indicate the suc- 
cessive phases of its growth. As has been observed, the 
early form of attention is the reflex or non-voluntary. By 
frequent exercises of its activity in response to external 
stimuli the power attains a certain degree of development 
independently of any aid from the will. By this is meant 
that, after a certain number of exercises, less powerful 
stimuli suffice, in the absence of more powerful ones, to 
call forth attention. Thus, by directing his attention again 
and again to bright objects, as the candle, the infant is 
preparing to direct it (still non-voluntarily) to the mother's 
face, his own hands, etc., when these objects happen to 
come into the field of view. With the progress of life, 
too, many things at first indifferent acquire an interest. 
Thus the accompaniments of what is intrinsically interest- 
ing would acquire (according to the principle of associ- 
ation) a borrowed or derived interest. In this way the 
infant tends to watch the movements and doings of his 
nurse, mother, etc. ; the boy comes to take an interest in 
the construction of his kite, and so on. Not only so, the 
range of interesting objects would be greatly extended by 
the development of new feelings, such as the sense of the 
grotesque, the feeling for what is beautiful, affection, etc. 

Development of Power of controlling the At- 
tention. — While this exercise of the power of attention in 
the reflex form is thus going on, the child's will is also de- 
veloping. The simplest manifestation of voluntary atten- 
tion may perhaps be found in the continued gazing at an 
agreeable object, such as a brightly colored toy or picture, 
held before the eye ; for here, as pointed out above, there 
is a vague anticipation of further pleasure. A more dis- 
tinctly marked development of will-power is manifested in 
the attitude of expectation. From a very early period of 
life the will begins to manifest itself in a deliberate explor- 



ATTENTION TO THE UNIMPRESSIVE. 77 

ing or looking out for objects to inspect or examine.* By 
such successive exercises the activity of attention is little 
by little brought under perfect control. Although the full 
understanding of this process presupposes a knowledge 
of the growth of will as a whole, we may be able to antici- 
pate to some extent, and indicate the main lines of this 
progress. 

The growth of voluntary attention means a continual 
reduction of the difficulty of attending to objects. The 
law that exercise strengthens faculty applies to attention. 
What is first done with labor and sense of difficulty is, 
with repetition and practice, done more and more easily. 
At the same time more and more difficult tasks become 
possible. The growth of attention may be best treated by 
distinguishing between the several forms in which this 
progressive mastery of difficulty manifests itself. 

Attention to the Unimpressive. — Voluntary atten- 
tion is obviously a going beyond the range of powerful and 
directly interesting stimuli, and an embracing of a wider 
circle of comparatively unimpressive and only indirectly 
interesting objects. The progress of attention can be 
measured under this aspect. The child learns gradually 
to fix with his eye the less striking, prominent, and attract- 
ive objects and events of the world in which he lives. 
When no strongly impressive objects are present, the very 
impulse of activity will insure a certain amount of atten- 
tion to less conspicuous and striking ones. Moreover, 
each successive exercise of the attention makes subsequent 
exercises easier, and the growth of mind as a whole implies 

* Prof. Preyer says that the child begins to explore the field of vis- 
ion in search of objects before the end of the third month. (" Die 
Seele des Kindes," p. 33.) He puts the first appearance of volition, 
properly so called, a month or two later. This suggests that the simple 
action here spoken of is a transition from the reflex to the voluntary 
form of attention. On the other hand, M. Perez thinks he discovers 
the germ of voluntary attention at the age of two months and six days. 
("The First Three Years of Childhood," p. 112.) 



78 A TTENTION. 

the constant addition of new needs and impulses which 
would insure a wider range of attention. 

Resistance to Stimuli. — A voluntary control of the 
attention involves, in the second place, the ability to resist 
the solicitations of extraneous and distracting objects. 
Voluntarily to turn the mind to a thing is to exclude what 
is irrelevant. This power of resistance has, of course, in 
every case its limits. Nobody can withstand the disturb- 
ing force of a sudden explosion. But the capability of 
resisting such distractions varies considerably, and is 
greatly improved by practice. The child, when sent to 
school, finds it hard at first not to look at his companions, 
or out of the window, when a lesson is being given. By- 
and-by he will be able to fix his mind on his lesson, even 
when some amount of disturbing noise is present. The 
highest attainment of this power is seen in the student 
whose mind is " abstracted " from external impressions, 
being wholly absorbed in internal reflection. 

Keeping the Attention fixed. — Another aspect, 
under which the growth of attention may be estimated, is 
the ability to detain objects before the mind. As we have 
seen, reflex attention is, for the most part, a process of flit- 
ting from object to object. We found, indeed, that even 
here there is a force at work which tends to counteract the 
impulse to skip from one thing to another. But this would 
not of itself carry us very far. It is only as the attention 
comes under the control of the will that it shows any con- 
siderable measure of persistence. To attend to a thing 
voluntarily means commonly to keep the mind dwelling on 
it. The ordinary school exercises involve such a prolonged 
and sustained effort of attention. Thus, in counting, the 
mind has to keep steadily in view the result of each of the 
successive operations as it is reached. The wandering of 
the thoughts for an instant would be fatal to the achieve- 
ment of the whole process. So, in following a description, 
a demonstration in Euclid, and so forth. 



CONCENTRA TION. 



79 



Here, again, we have to recognize the existence of cer- 
tain limits in every case. Nobody can fix his mind on one 
and the same object — say a geometrical figure — for an in- 
definite time. When once the fresh interest of a thing is 
exhausted, a further fixing of the attention costs more and 
more effort. Nor can a pupil carry on a sustained effort 
of attention through an indefinitely long arithmetical or 
other operation. The brain is soon wearied by the pro- 
longed exertion, and attention flags in spite of the utmost 
effort. But the limit of fatigue is pushed further off as 
the will develops and the act of attention becomes more 
easy. 

Concentration. — The power of sustained attention 
grows with the ability to resist distractions and solicita- 
tions. The two capabilities are thus very closely con- 
nected with one another, and are both included in the 
term concentration. To concentrate the mind is to fix it 
persistently on an object or group of objects, resolutely 
excluding from the mental view all irrelevant objects. 
The great field for the early exercises of such concentra- 
tion is action. When the child wants to do something, as 
open a box, or build a pile of bricks, the strong desire for 
the end secures a prolonged effort of attention. The 
scholar patiently poring over a mutilated passage in an 
ancient MS., to the neglect of his appetite, or the natural- 
ist patiently observing the movements of insects or of 
plants, indifferent to cold and wet, illustrates a high 
power of prolonged concentration. A person's power of 
attention may be conveniently measured by the degree of 
persistence attained. 

Concentration and Intellectual Power. — It has 
often been said that great intellectual power turns on the 
ability to concentrate the attention. Newton based his 
intellectual superiority on this circumstance. Helvetius 
observed that genius is nothing but a continued attention. 
A proposition about which there is so general an agree- 



8o ATTENTION. 

ment among those who ought to know may be safely ac- 
cepted as expressing a truth. Attention is a condition of 
all intellectual achievement, and a good power of pro- 
longed concentration is undoubtedly indispensable to first- 
rate achievement in any direction. The discoverers of 
new knowledge have always been distinguished by an 
unusual degree of pertinacity in brooding over a subject, 
and in following out trains of thought in this and that 
direction till the required explanation of fact, reconcili- 
ation of apparent contradictions, and so on, was found. 
But though these sayings undoubtedly embody an impor- 
tant truth, they only contain a part of the whole truth. No 
amount of attention simply will constitute intellectual 
eminence. The dull, slow, but exceedingly plodding 
child is a familiar type to the teacher. Success of the 
higher order depends on the possession of the intellectual 
functions (discrimination, etc.) in an exceptionally perfect 
form. On the other hand, good intellectual powers, when 
aided by a comparatively small power of prolonged atten- 
tion, may render their possessor quick and intelligent. 

Grasp of Attention. — As was pointed out above, the 
mind has a certain power of including a number of objects 
in one glance, and this power underlies the apprehension 
of all relations, such as symmetry of form, similarity be- 
tween objects, etc. The acquisition of this grasp is one 
of the most valuable results of the growth of the power of 
voluntary attention. Only as this power is developed will 
it be possible for the teacher to take his pupil on to the 
higher intellectual exercises, such as the understanding of 
geometrical relations of the more complicated kind, the 
processes of comparing a number of things with a view to 
abstraction, the logical analysis of sentences, arguments, 
and so forth. This form of attention, like the other forms, 
needs its own special modes of exercise to develop and 
improve it. 

We must distinguish this power of carrying the atten- 



VARIETIES OF ATTENTIVE POWER. 8 1 

tion quickly over a number of connected details from 
another variety of attention closely akin to it, viz., the 
capability of transferring the mental glance from one 
thing to another and disconnected thing. This capability 
is illustrated in a striking form in the rapid movements of 
the versatile mind from one subject of conversation, one 
region of ideas to another. This power of rapid trans- 
ference, though valuable in many intellectual exercises, is 
of far less value than the power of mentally bringing a 
number of details together as parts of one whole. It is 
plain, too, that it is in a manner opposed to prolonged 
concentration upon one subject. 

Habits of Attention. — Voluntary attention, like vol- 
untary action as a whole, is perfected in the form of habits. 
By a habit we mean a fixed disposition to do a thing, and 
a facility in doing it, the result of numerous repetitions of 
the action. The growth of the power of attention may be 
viewed as a progressive formation of habits. At first vol- 
untary concentration of mind requires a spur and an effort. 
As soon as the pressure of strong motive is withdrawn, the 
young mind returns to its natural state of listlessness or 
wandering attention. A habit of attention first appears as 
a recurring readiness to attend under definite circum- 
stances, for example when the child goes into his class- 
room, or is addressed by somebody. This is what Miss 
Edgeworth calls a habit of associated attention. Later on 
there manifests itself a more permanent attitude of atten- 
tiveness. The transition from childhood to youth is often 
characterized by the acquisition of a more general atti- 
tude of mental watchfulness, showing itself in thoughtful- 
ness about what is seen and heard. The highest result of 
the working of the principle of habit in this region is illus- 
trated in the customary, and but rarely relaxed, alertness 
of mind of the artistic or scientific observer of nature. 

Varieties of Attentive Power. — It has been im- 
plied that the power of attention develops very unequally 



82 A TTENTION. 

in different individual cases. With some this power never 
reaches a high point at all ; these are the children of slug- 
gish attention, the " saunterers," to use Locke's expression, 
who form the teacher's crux. Again, owing to differences 
of native endowment, as well as of exercise, we find well- 
marked contrasts in the special direction which the atten- 
tive power assumes. And these help, to a considerable 
extent, to determine the cast or character of the indi- 
vidual intelligence. Everybody knows the difference, for 
example, between the plodding child, able to concentrate 
his mind on an object for a long period, but slow to 
transfer and adjust his attention to new matter, and the 
quick but rather superficial child — the volatile genius, ac- 
cording to Miss Edgeworth, who finds it easy to direct his 
attention to new objects, though hard to keep it fixed for 
a prolonged period. There are many students who are 
capable of great intensity of concentration under favor- 
able circumstances, but whose minds are easily over- 
powered by disturbing or distracting influences. Finally, 
the ruling habits of attention will vary according to the 
character of the predominant interests. Thus, for ex- 
ample, a strong love of nature (whether scientific or 
artistic) will give a habitual outward bent to the atten- 
tion ; whereas a paramount interest in our own feelings, 
or in the objects of imagination and thought, will give a 
customary inward inclination to the attention. 

Training of the Attention. — All intellectual guid- 
ance of the young manifestly implies the power of holding 
their attention. Instruction may be said to begin when 
the mother can secure the attention of the infant to an 
object by pointing her finger to it. Henceforth she has 
the child's mental life to a certain extent under her con- 
trol, and can select the impressions which shall give new 
knowledge or new enjoyment. What we mark off as 
formal teaching, whether by the presentation of external 
objects for inspection through the senses, or by verbal 



TRAINING OF THE ATTENTION 83 

instruction, clearly involves at every stage an appeal to 
the attention, and depends for its success on securing this. 
To know how to exercise the attention, how to call forth 
its full activity, is thus the first condition of success in 
education. 

Mental science here, as in respect of the other faculties, 
can only point out the general conditions to be observed, 
and the natural order of procedure. It is plain, in the 
first place, that the laws of attention must be complied 
with. He would be a foolish teacher who gave a child a 
number of disconnected things to do at a time, or who 
insisted on keeping his mind bent on the same subject 
for an indefinite period. Yet, though these conditions 
are obvious enough, others are more easily overlooked. 
Thus it is probable that a more exact knowledge of the 
effects on the attention of novelty of subject and mode of 
treatment, on the one hand, and of total unfamiliarity on 
the other hand, would save teachers from many errors. 
Some of us can recall from our school-days the wearisome 
effect of an oft-recurring stereotyped illustration, as well 
as the impression of repellent strangeness produced by a 
first, and too sudden, introduction to a perfectly new 
branch of study. 

In the second place, it will be well to bear in mind that 
the young child's power of voluntary attention is rudi- 
mentary only, and that force must be economized by re- 
moving all obstacles and making the task as attractive and 
agreeable as possible. It would be idle to try to enlist his 
close attention if he were bodily fatigued, or if he were 
under the influence of emotional excitement, and agitated 
in mind and body. Again, it would be vain to expect him 
to listen to oral instruction close to a window looking out 
on a busy street. Children's (uncontrolled) attention 
flows outward to the sights and sounds of the actual 
external world, and is less easily diverted by the teacher's 
words toward the world of imagination and thought. 



84 



ATTENTION. 



Consequently, in teaching, everything should be done to 
reduce the force of outward things. The teacher would 
do well to remember that even so practiced a thinker as 
Kant found it helpful to prolonged meditation to fix his 
eye on a familiar and therefore unexciting object (a 
neighboring church-spire). Not only so, the subject and 
mode of treatment chosen should be such as to attract the 
learner's attention to the utmost What is fresh, interest- 
ing, or associated with some pleasurable interest, will 
secure and hold the attention when dry topics altogether 
fail to do so. Much may be done in this direction by 
preparation, by awakening curiosity, and by putting the 
child's mind in the attitude of tiptoe expectancy. 

As the pupil grows, more may of course be required in 
the shape of a voluntary effort to attend. It must never 
be forgotten, however, that all through life forced atten- 
tion to what is wholly uninteresting is not only wearying, 
but is certain to be ineffectual and unproductive. Hence, 
the rule to adapt the work to the growing intellectual and 
other likings of the child. Not only so, the teacher 
should regard it as an important part of the training of 
the attention to arouse interest, to deepen and fix it in 
certain definite directions, and gradually to enlarge its 
range.* . Harder task-work, such as learning the com- 
paratively uninteresting letters of the alphabet, or the 
notes of the musical scale, must be introduced gradually, 
and only when the will-power is sufficiently developed. 
Great care must be taken further to graduate the length 
or duration of the mental application, both in a particular 
direction and generally, in accordance with the progress 
of the child's powers of voluntary attention. An ideal 
school-system would exhibit all gradations in this respect ; 

* Volkmann remarks that the older pedagogic had as its rule, 
" Make your instruction interesting" ; whereas the newer has the pre- 
cept, " Instruct in such a way that an interest may awake and remain 
active for life " (" Lehrbuch der Psychologie," vol. ii, p. 200). 



TRAINING OF THE ATTENTION. 85 

alternation and complete remission of mental activity be- 
ing frequent at first, and growing less and less so as the 
powers of prolonged concentration develop. 

APPENDIX. 

On the early development of attention, see Perez, " First Three 
Years of Childhood," chap. viii. The characteristics of children's at- 
tention and the laws of the growth of attention are well described by 
Waitz, "Lehrbuch der Psychologie," § 55 ; and by Volkmann, " Lehr- 
buch der Psychologie," vol. ii, § 114. 

On the training of the attention, see Locke, " Some Thoughts con- 
cerning Education," § 167; Maria Edgeworth, "Essays on Practical 
Education," vol. i, chap. ii. Beneke, " Erziehungs- und Unterrichts- 
lehre," 4th ed., vol. i, § 19 ; and Th. Waitz's " Allgemeine Psedago- 
gik," vol. i, § 23. 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE SENSES : SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. 

All knowledge takes its rise in the senses. No intel- 
lectual work, such as imagining or reasoning, can be done 
till the senses have supplied the necessary materials. These 
materials, when reduced to their elements, are known as 
sensations or impressions, such as those of light and color, 
which we receive by means of the eye, of sound, which we 
have by way of the ear, and so on. An examination of 
our most abstract notions, such as force, matter, leads us 
back to these impressions of sense. Our ideas respecting 
the nature and properties of things is limited by our sensa- 
tions. The want of a sense, as in the case of one born 
blind, means depriving the mind of a whole order of ideas. 
The addition of a new sense, if such a thing were possible, 
would enrich our minds by a new kind of knowledge re- 
specting the world. 

Definition of Sensation. — A sensation being an ele- 
mentary mental phenomenon can not be denned in terms 
of anything more simple. Its meaning can only be indi- 
cated by a reference to the nervous processes on which it 
is known to depend. Accordingly, a sensation may be 
denned as a simple mental state resulting from the stimu- 
lation of the outer extremity of an " incarrying " nerve, 
when this stimulation has been transmitted to the brain- 
centers. Thus the stimulation of a point of the skin by 
pressing or rubbing, or of the retina of the eye by light, 
gives rise to a sensation. 



GENERAL AND SPECIAL SENSIBILITY. 87 

These sensations have two broadly distinguishable as- 
pects, one of which is commonly predominant. The first 
is the emotional aspect, by which is meant the presence of 
a distinct element of feeling, pleasurable or painful. A 
sensation of bodily warmth, or of sweetness, illustrates this 
prominence of the element of feeling. The second aspect 
is the intellectual, or knowledge-giving. By this is meant 
the presence of definite and clearly distinguishable prop- 
erties, which may be called marks or characters, because 
they serve as clews to the qualities of external things. The 
sensation experienced on touching a smooth surface, or on 
hearing a sound of a particular pitch and loudness, is an 
example of the predominance of the intellectual element. 

General and Special Sensibility. — All parts of the 
organism supplied with sensory nerves, and the actions of 
which are consequently fitted to give rise to sensations, 
are said to possess sensibility of some kind. But this prop- 
erty appears under one of two very unlike forms. The 
first of these is common to all sensitive parts of the organ- 
ism, and involves no special nervous structure at the ex- 
tremity. The second is peculiar to certain parts of the 
bodily surface, and implies special structures or " organs." 
To the former is given the name common or general sensi- 
bility, and also organic sense ; to the latter, special sensi- 
bility, or special sense. 

The sensations falling under the head of common sensi- 
bility, or the organic sense, are marked by absence of 
definite characters. They are vague and ill-defined. Their 
distinguishing peculiarity is that they have a marked 
pleasurable or painful aspect. Such are the feelings of 
comfort and discomfort connected with the processes of 
digestion and indigestion, and with injuries to the tissues. 
I These sensations are not directly connected with the action 
^ of external objects, but arise in consequence of a certain 
condition of the part of the organism concerned. Thus 
they give us no knowledge of the external world. They 



88 THE SENSES : SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. 

are no doubt important as informing us of the condition 
of the organism ; but, owing to their vagueness, they give 
us very little definite knowledge even of this. 

The special sensations are those we receive by way of 
the five senses. They are marked off one from another 
by great definiteness of character. This peculiarity is 
connected with the fact that each sense has its own spe- 
cially modified structure or " sense-organ " such as the eye, 
or the ear, fitted to be acted upon by a particular kind of 
stimulus (light-vibrations, air-waves, etc.). Owing to this 
definiteness of character, the special sensations are much 
more susceptible of being discriminated and recognized 
than the organic sensations. Moreover, these sensations 
are (in ordinary cases) brought about by the action of ex- 
ternal agents or objects lying outside the organism, and 
are on that account called impressions, or, better, sense- 
impressions.* For these reasons they are fitted to yield us 
knowledge of the environment. 

Characters of Sensations. — The importance of the 
special senses depends, as we have seen, on their possess- 
ing certain well-defined aspects, whereby they are fitted to 
be marks of qualities in external objects as well as of the 
changes which take place in these. The two most impor- 
tant distinctions of character among our sensations are 
those of degree and of kind. 

By degree or intensity is meant a difference of strength, 
as that between a bright and a faint light, or a loud and 
a soft sound. All classes of sensation exhibit such differ- 
ences of degree. They are of great importance for knowl- 
edge. Thus the degree of pressure of a body on the hand 
helps to tell us of its weight. 

By a difference of kind or quality is meant one of na- 
ture, as that between sour and sweet, blue and red. These 

* The sense-impression which we are here concerned with is a men- 
tal phenomenon, and must not be confused with She. physical " impres- 
sion," as, for example, the image of an object on the retina. 



THE FIVE SENSES. 89 

too are marks of external facts. Thus we distinguish ob- 
jects by their colors, voices by their pitch, etc. 

The Five Senses. — Coming now to the senses in 
detail, we see that they do not all exhibit the same degree 
of definiteness or the same number of distinct characters. 
We usually speak of taste and smell as the coarse or un- 
refined senses, whereas hearing and sight are highly re- 
fined. By attending simply to the degree of refinement, we 
may arrange the senses in the following ascending order: 
taste, smell, touch, hearing, sight. A few words on the 
special function of each must suffice here. 

Taste and Smell. — These present a decidedly low 
measure of refinement. Indeed, the sensations of these 
senses may be said to approach the organic sensations in 
want of definiteness, and in the predominance of the ele- 
ment of feeling (pleasure and pain). These peculiarities 
are connected with the fact that these senses have as their 
function the determination of what is wholesome or un- 
wholesome to the organism as a whole. The very position 
of the organs, at the entrance of the digestive and respira- 
tory cavities, suggests that they are sentinels to warn us as 
to what is good or ill. The sensations of taste and smell are 
easily confused one with another, and can not be definite- 
ly distinguished either in degree or quality. For this and 
other reasons, they are of little importance as knowledge- 
giving senses. It is only under special circumstances, as 
those of the chemist, the wine-taster, and so on, that these 
" servants of the body " supply a quantity of exact knowl- 
edge about the properties of external objects. 

Touch. — By the sense of touch is meant the sensa- 
tions we receive through the stimulation of certain nerves 
terminating in the skin by bodies in contact with it. These 
are either sensations of mere contact or pressure, or those 
of temperature. 

These supply important elements of feeling. Thus, 
contact with smooth surfaces and with warm bodies is 



9 o 



THE SENSES: SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. 



one chief source of sensuous pleasure, especially in early 
life. 

The chief importance of touch is, however, under its 
intellectual aspect. In its highest form as it presents itself 
at definite portions of the bodily surface, more particular- 
ly the hands, and especially the finger-tips (with which the 
lips may be reckoned), the tactile sensibility becomes a 
most important means of ascertaining the properties of 
bodies. The sensations of touch have a much higher de- 
gree of definiteness than those of taste and smell. 

The discrimination of degrees of pressure by the tac- 
tile sense is estimated by laying a weight on the hand or 
some other part, and then trying how much must be taken 
away or added in order that a difference may be felt.* 
It is found that the discriminative sensibility varies con- 
siderably at different regions of the bodily surface. For 
instance, on the anterior surface of the fingers the differ- 
ence of pressure detected is about one half of that recog- 
nized on their posterior surface. 

This discrimination of degrees of pressure by the skin 
is one of the means by which we obtain knowledge of the 
force exerted by bodies, e. g., the difference when a heavy 
and a light body press against us. It also assists in giving 
us information respecting the weight of bodies. 

In the case of touch we have a further difference of 
sensation which may be called local distinction of sensa- 
tion, or local discrimination. By this is meant the fact 
that we can distinguish a number of similar touches when 
different points of the skin are stimulated. This discrimi- 
nation of points, like that of degrees of pressure, varies at 
different parts of the bodily surface. It is much finer in 
the mobile parts of the body (hands, feet, lips, etc.) than 

* If the hand is the part selected, it must be supported by some 
object, as a table. Only in this way can we test the tactile sensibility 
to pressure apart from the muscular sensibility to be spoken of pres- 
ently. 



TOUCH. 



91 



in the comparatively fixed parts (the trunk). Again, it is 
finer on the anterior than on the posterior surface of the 
hand, and decreases rapidly as we recede from the finger- 
tips toward the wrist and elbow. We see from this that 
the finger-tips are specially marked out as the organ of 
tactile sensibility.* 

This local separation of tactile sensations is of the 
greatest consequence for knowledge. First of all, it is this 
capability, added to the discrimination of pressure, which 
forms the basis of our tactile discrimination of roughness 
and smoothness. A very rough surface, such as that of a 
piece of unplaned wood or of sand-paper, is appreciated as 
such by differences of pressure corresponding to eminences 
and depressions at various points of the surface. In esti- 
mating a rough surface, therefore, we must both distinguish 
the several points and the degrees of pressure at these. 
The sense of roughness and its opposite in their various 
degrees is of importance in ascertaining not only the na- 
ture of a surface, but also the texture of a substance, as 
the fibrous texture of wood, woven materials, etc. 

In the second place, this local discrimination forms the 
foundation of the tactile knowledge of what is called ex- 
tension, or the extendedness of outer things, by which is 
meant the fact that they have parts occupying different 
positions in space ; as well as the various modifications of 
this extendedness which constitute differences of form and 
magnitude in objects, as differences of direction and 
length of line, form and extent of surface, etc. It is by 
laying the hand or the two hands on the surface of an ob- 
ject, such as a book, that we learn something of its figure 
and size. 

Finally, under touch is commonly included the sense of 
temperature or the thermal sense. It is now known that 
this sensibility is connected with special nerve-structure 

* The tip of the tongue and the lips are also highly endowed with 
tactile discrimination. 



9 2 



THE SENSES: SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. 



distinct from those of the tactile sense proper, and not va- 
rying in the same way as this varies at different portions 
of the bodily surface. Hence the thermal sense is a sepa- 
rate sense. At the same time, we usually test the temper- 
ature of bodies by touching them, and this with the fin- 
gers. And the appreciation of temperature thus takes place 
in close connection with that of their tangible properties. 
The child learns to know a metal and to distinguish it 
from wood partly by the differences in the thermal sensa- 
tions.* 

Active Touch. — So far we have considered touch 
merely as a passive sense, i. e., as sensibility to the action 
of things on the tactile surface. But the fact that we 
speak of touching bodies as our own action shows that it 
is an active sense as well. In touching, we ourselves bring 
the organ into contact with substances, and so secure its 
exercise. In other words, the organ is supplied with mus- 
cles, the action of which is of very great importance as 
enlarging the range of our experience and knowledge. 

The first and most obvious advantage of this adjunct 
of muscular activity is the multiplication of tactile impres- 
sions. Just as the mobility of the insect's antennae en- 
ables it to gain many more impressions of touch than it 
would have if the organs were fixed, so the mobile arm, 
hand, and fingers of the child greatly extend the range of 
his tactile experiences. By such movements he is able to 
bring the most sensitive part of the organ (the tips of the 
fingers) into contact with a large number of objects, and 
further to gain impressions of these in rapid succession, 
and so discriminate them better one from the other. 

This widening and perfecting of passive impressions is, 

* This knowledge is less valuable than that of form or weight, 
partly because sensations of temperature are very variable, depending 
on the temperature of the organ itself, and partly because the temper- 
ature of bodies is a changing state, and not a fixed, invariable property, 
as weight. 



MUSCULAR SENSE. 



93 



however, only one part of the gain resulting from the high 
degree of mobility of the hand and the eye. Another and 
no less important part is the new experience which accom- 
panies these movements, and which constitutes a distinct 
and very important source of knowledge. This experience 
is known as the muscular sense. 

Muscular Sense. — By this expression is meant the 
sum of those peculiar " sensations " of which we are aware 
when we voluntarily exercise our muscles. These have 
well-marked characters of their own. They constitute 
distinctly active states. In singing, in moving the arm or 
leg, in pushing a heavy body, we have a sense of being 
bodily active, or of exerting muscular energy. 

The muscular sense is important both as a source of 
pleasure and as a means of knowledge. The child de- 
lights to exercise his muscles, to feel his bodily power. 
Certain modes of muscular exercise, as rapid rhythmical 
movement, are known to be specially exhilarating. It is, 
however, chiefly as a source of knowledge that we shall 
now regard it. 

The sensations which accompany muscular action may 
be conveniently divided into two main varieties. These 
are (a) sensations of movement or of unimpeded energy, 
and (b) sensations of strain or resistance, that is, of ob- 
structed or impeded energy. The first are illustrated in 
the sensations which attend movements of the arms or 
legs in empty space ; the second are exemplified in the 
sensations which accompany the act of pushing against a 
heavy object, or holding a heavy weight in the hand. 

(a) Sensations of movement present two well-marked 
differences of quality : (i) In the first place, they vary 
in character according to the direction of the movement. 
The movement effected by one muscle or group of mus- 
cles is felt to be unlike that carried out by another. Thus 
the sensations attending the movements of the arm to the 
right and to the left, up and down, are qualitatively un- 



94 



THE SENSES: SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. 



like. And it is this difference in the sensations which 
enables us to ascertain what is the particular direction of 
any movement which we are executing. (2) In the second 
place, these sensations vary in character according to the 
velocity of the movement. The experience of moving the 
arm quickly differs materially from that of moving it slow- 
ly. And we are able to distinguish many degrees of ve- 
locity. 

(b) The sensations which arise when muscular energy 
is impeded, as when we push with the shoulder or arms 
against a heavy body, drag it, or lift it, have a distinct 
character of their own. They have been called sensations 
of resistance, or "dead strain." They exhibit, like those 
of movement, nice distinctions of degree. We experience 
a difference of sensation in pushing a heavy table and one 
less heavy, and in lifting a pound and twenty ounces. 

Each of these modes of muscular experience consti- 
tutes an important additional source of tactile knowledge. 
In truth, our information respecting the most fundamental 
properties of things would be very vague and rudimentary 
but for the addition of the muscular sense. 

In the first place, it is the sensations of resistance 
which give the child its immediate knowledge of the 
deepest and most characteristic property of material 
things, viz., what is known as impenetrability, under its 
various modes, as hardness, density, inelasticity, etc. 
The mere sense of pressure gained by way of an im- 
mobile organ, say a paralyzed limb, could never supply 
any distinct knowledge of this property ; this is directly 
revealed in the experience of exerting our own energy 
and finding it impeded by a force other than our own. 
All our customary estimates of the degrees of hardness, 
etc., of substances, are arrived at by the aid of muscular 
discrimination. Further, the discrimination of weight, 
though possible to a certain extent by way of passive 
touch, is much more accurate when the muscular sense is 



HEARING. 



95 



called in to help. If a person wants to estimate a weight 
nicely, he lifts it and judges by means of the degree of 
force he has to expend in so doing. 

In the second place, the sensations of movement are 
an important factor in the knowledge of the extendedness 
of things, of the relative position of points, and of the 
shape and size of objects. The rudimentary and vague 
knowledge obtainable by means of the local discrimina- 
tion of the skin needs to be rendered distinct and exact 
by means of movement. Thus, as any one can prove for 
himself, the idea of the shape and size of a small pencil, 
or of a ring, is made much clearer when we pass the 
finger-tip along it or round it, and so judge of it by the 
direction and length of the movements. The blind 
habitually examine the form of objects by the aid of 
movement. 

Hearing. — The sense of hearing ranks high both as 
a source of pleasure and as an intellectual or knowledge- 
giving sense. The sensations which form the material of 
music, those of pitch, together with their combinations in 
rhythm, melody, etc., are among the most agreeable of 
our sense-experiences. But the refined pleasures of music 
presuppose intellectual capability in the shape of the dis- 
crimination of notes, etc. The intellectual value of hear- 
ing is due to the high degree of definiteness of its sen- 
sations. In respect both of intensity and of quality fine 
differences are recognizable. 

The high intellectual character of hearing shows itself 
very conspicuously in the qualitative differences among 
sensations of sound. We have here the broad contrast 
between musical and non-musical sounds or noises. The 
former depend on regularly recurring or periodic vibra- 
tions of the air, the latter on irregularly recurring or non- 
periodic vibrations. In the case of musical sounds we 
have the remarkable phenomenon of a scale of quality. 
If we pass upward from a low note to a higher one 



96 THE SENSES: SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. 

through all distinguishable gradations, we experience a 
continuous variation of sensation which is known as that 
of pitch or height. These differences of pitch answer to 
changes in the rate of vibration of the medium (the 
atmosphere) ; the higher the note, the more rapid are the 
vibrations. Our musical scale is made up of distinct 
steps or intervals of this continuous series of gradual 
changes. 

Along with this scale of pitch-quality, there are the 
differences known as timbre or "musical quality." These 
are the qualitative differences in sensations of tone an- 
swering to differences in the instrument, as the piano, the 
violin, the human voice. 

In addition to this wide range of musical sensation the 
ear distinguishes a vast number of non-musical sounds, 
the characteristic " noises " of different substances, such as 
the roar of the sea, the rustling of leaves, and the crack of 
a whip. We distinguish noises as jarring, grating, ex- 
plosive, and so on. It is this side of hearing which is of 
value for the knowledge of external things. The child 
learns to recognize the characteristic sounds produced by 
moving objects, as the plash of water, the rumbling of 
wheels, etc. 

Finally, there are what are known as articulate sounds, 
those which constitute the elements of speech. These 
differ from one another partly in point of musical quality. 
Thus, it has been recently ascertained that the several 
vowel-sounds differ from one another in much the same 
way as the tones of different musical instruments. On the 
other hand, the differences of consonantal sounds are non- 
musical in character. In the ordinary classification of 
these into the gutturals, sibilants, etc., we find differences 
analogous to those among noises. 

Enough has been said to illustrate the high degree of 
refinement characterizing the sense of hearing. The deli- 
cate and far-reaching discrimination of quality, aided by 



SIGHT. 9; 

the fine discrimination of duration, enables the ear to ac- 
quire a good deal of exact information, as well as to gain 
a considerable amount of refined pleasure. The delight 
of music sums up the chief part of the latter. The former 
is illustrated in the wide range of knowledge derived by- 
way of that system of articulate sounds known as language. 

As a set-off against these advantages, we see that hear- 
ing has very little local discrimination. We can not dis- 
tinguish two or more simultaneous sounds with any nicety 
according to the position of their external source. Nor is 
the organ of hearing endowed with mobility as the hand 
is. Hence, hearing gives us no direct knowledge of the 
most important properties of objects, their size and shape. 

Sight. — The sense of sight is by common consent 
allowed the first place in the scale of refinement. To this 
fact there corresponds the delicate and intricate structure 
of the organ, and the subtile nature of the stimulus (ether- 
vibration). The eye surpasses all other sense-organs both 
in the range and in the delicacy of its impressions. These 
are at once the source of some of the purest and most re- 
fined enjoyment, the pleasures of light, color, and form, 
and of some of the most valuable of our knowledge. 

In the first place, the eye is fairly discriminative of 
degree. These degrees answer to all distinguishable grades 
of brightness or luminosity from the self-luminous bodies 
which we are only just capable of looking at, down to the 
objects which reflect a minimum of light, and are known 
as black. This discrimination is very fine, as may be seen 
in our ability to note subtile differences of light and shade, 
and this delicacy is of the greatest importance in the visual 
discrimination of objects. 

In sight, again, we have numerous and fine differences 
of quality. Of these the most important are color-differ- 
ences. The impressions of color, like those of pilch, fall 
into a series of gradual changes. Passing from one ex- 
tremity of the spectrum (or rainbow) scale to another, the 
5 



98 THE SENSES: SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. 

eye experiences a series of perfectly gradual transitions. 
These changes fall into the series, violet, blue, green, yel- 
low, orange, and red, together with certain finer distinc- 
tions, as indigo-blue, greenish blue. These differences of 
quality accompany (as in the case of pitch-sensations) 
changes in the rapidity of the vibrations of the stimulus, 
viz., the rays of light. The rays at the violet end have 
more rapid vibrations than those at the red end. These 
color-impressions, while an important element of artistic 
pleasure, are of great intellectual importance. The eye 
learns to know and to recognize things in part by means 
of their colors. 

In addition to these differences of degree and quality 
in the sensations of sight, we have in this sense, as in that 
of touch, two endowments which furnish the basis of a 
perception of extension and space, including the form and 
magnitude of objects. The first of these is the discrimi- 
nation of points by means of the distinct nerve-fibers, which 
terminate in a mosaic-like arrangement in the retina. 
Owing to this endowment, we can distinguish two points 
of light, say two stars, when they lie very near one another. 
This discrimination of points is finest in the central region 
of the retina, known as the area of perfect vision. It is 
by aid of this local discrimination that we are able in one 
glance to distinguish a number of details of form, such 
as the various parts of a flower or the several letters of a 
word. 

Valuable as this retinal discrimination of points is in 
the perception of form, it needs to be supplemented by 
the muscular activity of the eye. The organ of sight is 
supplied with a system of muscles, by means of which it 
executes a large variety of delicate and precise movements. 
Sight is thus, like touch, an active sense. One result of 
this activity, as in the case of touch, is to bring the most 
sensitive part of the organ opposite the object we wish to 
examine. In fixing the eye on a point, we are obtaining a 



SENSE-IMPRESSIONS. 



99 



retinal image of it on the area of perfect vision. Another 
result is that, in the act of moving the eye from point to 
point of an object or of a scene, we bring the muscular 
sense into play, and thus gain a better impression of the 
relative position of the visible points, and of the form and 
magnitude of objects. It is by tracing the path of a line 
with the eye that we can best appreciate its perfect straight- 
ness, or the exact degree of its curvature. In early life 
more particularly this is the customary mode of acquiring 
knowledge of form. 

Attention to Sense-Impressions. — For the pro- 
duction of clear sense-impressions it is not enough that 
the sense-organ be stimulated. There must be a reaction 
of the brain-centers and the co-operation of the mind in 
the act of attention. Till this reaction follows, the im- 
pression must, as pointed out in the preceding chapter, 
remain vague and indistinct. This direction of mental 
activity to an impression is the immediate condition of 
assimilating it as intellectual material. By fixing the men- 
tal glance on it, the intellectual functions are brought to 
bear on it, and so it is drawn into the store of our mental 
possessions, ready to be woven into the fabric of knowl- 
edge. 

Discrimination of Sensation. — At any one time we 
may be acted upon by a multitude of external stimuli, 
sights, sounds, etc. These present themselves at first as 
a blurred or confused mass. The direction of attention 
to any one of them separates it from the adjacent crowd 
and gives distinctness to it. This fact may also be ex- 
pressed by saying that it is " differenced " or discriminated. 
To have a clear and definite sensation is to distinguish it 
as something from the other sensations immediately pre- 
ceding and accompanying it. As we have seen, this dis- 
crimination is much finer in the case of the higher senses 
— touch, hearing, and sight. 

Identification of Sense-Impressions. — The direc- 



IOO THE SENSES: SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. 

tion of the attention to a sense-impression leads on not 
only to the discrimination of it. After the repetition of 
sensations of color, for example, a new sensation is at 
once identified, as one of yellow, green. This involves the 
persistence of traces of past similar sensations, and is a 
rudimentary form of that assimilation of new material to 
old on which all intellectual development depends. 

Identification is exact in proportion to the fineness of 
the discrimination. If a child can only say a certain col- 
or is red, without being able to identify the precise shade 
of red, he shows that his discrimination of color is only 
partially developed. 

Growth of Sense-Capacity. — From the above, it 
follows that there is an improvement of sense as life ad- 
vances. Although the child has the same sense-organs 
and the same fundamental modes of sensibility as the 
man, his sensations are more crude, vague, and ill-defined. 
The repeated exercise of the senses in connection with 
and under the control of attention leads to the gradual 
differentiation of the several orders of sense-impression, 
and the rendering of them definite in their character. 
This growth of sense involves two things : (a) an increas- 
ing power of sense-discrimination, and (fr) a growth in the 
power of identifying impressions through the cumulation 
of "traces." In other words, our senses become more 
delicate or acute in distinguishing impressions, and more 
quick or keen in identifying them. 

Improvement of Sense-Discrimination.— Of these 
two aspects of sense-improvement, the discriminative is 
the more important, since it limits the other. The infant's 
sensations are at first confused one with another. The 
first distinctions (next to that of the pleasurable and pain- 
ful) are those of degree or quantity. Thus, the visual im- 
pressions of light and darkness, of a bright and a dark 
surface, are distinguished before those of colors. As the 
senses are exercised, and attention brought to bear on 



VARYING SENSE-CAPACITY. ioi 

their impressions, discrimination improves. With respect 
both to degree and to quality this improvement is gradual, 
beginning with the detection of broad and striking con- 
trasts, and proceeding to that of finer differences. Thus, 
the contrast of loud and soft, of heavy and light, is arrived 
at long before nice differences of loudness or weight. 
Similarly, the contrast of the reds with the blues is arrived 
at before the finer differences between the several sorts of 
red.* In this way the senses become more acute with ex- 
ercise. 

Differences of Sense-Capacity. — Striking differ- 
ences of sense-capacity present themselves among differ- 
ent individuals. These are of various kinds. Thus, A 
may be superior to B in respect of what is called absolute 
sensibility, or the quickness of response to stimulus. One 
child is much more readily impressed by a faint smell or 
sound than another. The tendency to respond to a very 
weak stimulus, coupled with good retentive or identifying 
power, would constitute a keen sense in the full meaning 
of the word, that is, one which readily notes and identifies 
impressions. 

From these differences we must carefully separate in- 
equalities in discriminative power. This is the important in- 
tellectual side of sense-capacity. It is found to character- 
ize the more educated and intellectual classes. It does not 
vary with absolute sensibility. A may be more quickly 
responsive to a stimulus than B, and yet not be more dis- 
criminative. 

These differences of discriminative capacity may be of 
a more general, or of a special kind. Thus, A may sur- 

* The exact order in which the colors are distinguished is not cer- 
tain, and probably varies somewhat in the case of different children. 
Prof. Preyer experimented with his little boy at the age of two, and 
found that he learned to identify colors on hearing their names in the 
following order: yellow, red, lilac, green, and blue. (" Die Seele des 
Kindes," p. 6, etc. ; cf. Perez, " First Three Years of Childhood," p. 
26, etc.) 



102 THE SENSES: SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. 

pass B in his average sense-discrimination. Or he may- 
surpass the other in some special mode of discriminative 
sensibility, as in the discrimination of colors or tones. 

These inequalities are partly native and connected 
with differences in the organs engaged. Good average 
discriminative power probably implies from the first a fine 
organization of the brain as a whole and special concen- 
trative ability, whereas a particularly fine sensibility to 
color, to tone, and so on, is connected rather with original 
structural excellence of the particular sense-organ con- 
cerned. It is this which fixes and limits the ultimate de- 
gree of delicacy reached. A child naturally dull in dis- 
tinguishing notes or colors will never become finely dis- 
criminative in this particular region. At the same time, 
the remarkable superiority of certain individuals (and 
race:) over others in respect of definite varieties of dis- 
criminative sensibility presupposes special concentration 
of mind and prolonged exercise of the discriminative func- 
tion in this particular domain of impressions. This is 
strikingly illustrated in the exceptional delicacy attained 
by those who have occasion to employ a sense much more 
than other people. In this way we account for the fine 
tactile sensibility of the blind, the delicate gustatory sensi- 
bility of wine- or tea-tasters, and so on. 

The Training of the Senses.— By the training or 
cultivation of the senses is meant the systematic exercis- 
ing of the sense-organs (and of the attention in connec- 
tion of these) so as to make them efficient instruments of 
observation and discovery. The first branch of this train- 
ing is the developing by suitable exercises of the discrim- 
inative side of the senses. The special object of this 
branch is to render the senses quick and exact in seizing 
the precise shades of difference among the several impres- 
sions presented to them. And the importance of this 
exercise in sense-discrimination depends on the fact that, 
in proportion as we discriminate our sense-impressions 



MENTAL ELEMENT IN SENSATION. 



I03 



finely, shall we be able to distinguish and know objects 
accurately, and, as a result of this, be afterward able to 
call up distinct images of them, and to think and reason 
about them. Indeed, distinct and sharply defined sense- 
impressions are the first condition of clear imagination 
and exact thinking. The child that confuses its impres- 
sions of color, form, etc., will as a consequence be only 
able to imagine and think in a hazy and confused manner. 

The exercise of the senses implies the direction of 
attention on the part of the child to what is present. It 
is thus, strictly speaking, the exercises of the mind under 
the stimulus of sense-impressions. Sense-knowledge is 
gained by the young mind coming into contact with things 
immediately, and not mediately by the intervention of 
another mind. Hence the function of the educator in 
this first stage of the growth of knowledge is a limited 
one. A good part of the exercise of the senses in early 
life goes on, and it is fortunate that it does so, with very 
little help from mother or nurse. The child's own ac- 
tivity, if he is healthy and robust, will urge him to use 
his eyes, his hands, and other organs in exploring things 
about him. 

Nevertheless, a good deal may be done indirectly to 
help on this process of acquisition. The mother has the 
control of the child's surroundings, and may do much to 
hasten or retard the development of sense-knowledge by 
a wise attention to them or an indolent neglect of them. 
To supply children from the first with suitable materials 
for the exercise of their sense-organs, is the first and 
probably most important part of what is meant by train- 
ing the senses, at least in very early life. Next to this 
comes the more direct co-operation of mother, nurse, or 
teacher in directing their attention to unnoticed sights 
and sounds, etc., in their surroundings. 

Method of Training 1 . — The training of the senses 
begins with the exercising the child in the discrimination 



104 



THE SENSES: SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. 



and along with this in the identification of impressions. 
This may be carried out in a less systematic way in the 
nursery. The infant's surroundings, the toys to be 
handled, the pictures to be looked at, and even the tones 
of voice used in addressing it, should be chosen with a 
view to a sufficient variety of impression. The natural 
order of sense-development must be followed, the first 
differences brought under his notice being broad contrasts, 
as that of a hard and soft material, blue and yellow colors, 
high and low tones, and finer distinctions following. With 
variety should go a certain amount of repetition of im- 
pressions, so that the pupil be exercised in identifying im- 
pressions. Hence the surroundings should not be con- 
tinually changed. A measure of sameness and perma- 
nence is necessary to thorough familiarity with the various 
sorts of sense-material. 

A more systematic procedure can be gradually intro- 
duced, aiming at a full and accurate knowledge of the 
several sense-elements. Thus, in training the color-sense 
the educator may best proceed by selecting first of all a 
few bright and striking colors, as white, red, and blue. 
Each of these must be made familiar and its name learned. 
After being presented separately, they should be shown in 
juxtaposition, so that the differences may be clearly seen. 
This involves a rudimentary exercise of the faculty of 
comparison which in its higher form plays an important 
part in thought. Juxtaposition, or the bringing of two 
things side by side in space, or, as in the case of sounds, 
in immediate succession in time, is the most valuable 
instrument in exercising the senses. By seeing two colors 
side by side, the individual character of each is made 
more apparent, and the precise amount of difference ap- 
preciated. 

When a few elements have thus been thoroughly 
learned, new ones may be added. In this way the child 
will not only add to its stock of sense-materials, but will 



DANGER OF OVER-EXERTION. 105 

have its former impressions rendered still more definite 
by a grasp of more numerous and finer differences. Thus, 
by adding yellow, orange, and so on, the learner will at- 
tain to more distinct ideas of what is meant by red. 

It must not be forgotten that these finer exercises in 
sense-discrimination imply a severe effort of attention, and 
are apt to be felt as a strain at first, both to the sense-organ 
concerned, and to the brain. And it is of the highest im- 
portance not to push them to the point of fatigue. Thus 
in training the eye to a minute detection of differences of 
form in letters, etc., and the hand to the nice reproduc- 
tion of these differences, there is special danger of over- 
stimulating the organ and inducing fatigue, and, if per- 
sisted in, of causing injury to the organ. 

If, however, the risk of over-exertion be avoided, it is 
possible, by proceeding judiciously, not only to keep these 
exercises from becoming wearisome, but even to make 
them positively agreeable. The main source of a pleas- 
urable interest here is the child's love of activity, mental 
and bodily. The very employment of the sense-organs is 
a pleasure to the healthy and strong child. This pleasure 
will be the greater when muscular activity is also enlisted, 
and an appeal made to the little one's nascent feeling of 
power. Thus, in training the color-sense, after presenting 
unlike and like colors to the child's notice, he may be en- 
couraged to select and sort the colors for himself. The 
active exercises of painting, drawing, and singing, in order 
to reproduce impressions of sight and sound, are the best 
means of training the corresponding senses. 

Training of the Several Senses.— All the senses 
need exercise, but in different ways. The lower senses, 
being of but little value as knowledge-giving senses, claim 
less consideration from the intellectual educator. The 
cultivation and control of the palate have, however, an im- 
portant bearing on physical education, on the disciplining 
of the body to healthy habits ; and the due limitation of 



106 THE SENSES: SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. 

the pleasures of taste, the checking of that common child- 
ish vice, Nascherei, is one of the most valuable among the 
early exercises in the virtue of temperance. Again, the 
cultivation of the sense of smell, of sensibility to the 
odors of flower and herb, pasture and wood, summer and 
autumn, is an important ingredient in the formation of 
aesthetic taste, and more especially the development of 
that love of nature which is a prime factor in all real en- 
joyment of poetry. 

From its great importance, touch claims special con- 
sideration in the education of the senses. The develop- 
ment of this sense is secured, to a large extent, by the 
child's own spontaneous promptings to handle and ex- 
amine things. Still, the teacher may supplement this 
irregular self-instruction by special systematic exercises. 
The Kindergarten occupations, such as stick-laying, paper- 
folding, modeling in clay, etc., all serve to increase the 
discriminative sensibility of the organ of touch on its pas- 
sive and on its active side. The teaching of the rudi- 
ments of drawing and writing completes this branch of 
sense-training. The perfect command of the hand in ex- 
ecuting movements with a nice precision is the outcome 
of a fine muscular sensibility developed by special con- 
centration of the attention, and by practice. 

The training of the ear is a well-acknowledged depart- 
ment of elementary education. In learning to articulate 
and to read, the child is called on first of all to distinguish 
a number of elementary sounds as well as to discriminate 
combinations of these. Along with this the muscular 
sense is exercised in so managing the organ of speech as 
to reproduce the precise sound required. Much the same 
holds good with respect to the systematic exercise of the 
ear in singing. Here, too, sounds have to be distin- 
guished and identified. The first condition of singing 
accurately is to have a finely discriminative ear which will 
instantly detect the slightest degree of flatness or sharp- 



TRAINING OF THE SEVERAL SENSES. 107 

ness in the notes sung. And in conjunction with this, the 
vocal organ must be exercised so that the modifications 
answering to differences of pitch and force may be clearly- 
distinguished and retained for future use. 

The eye calls for the most careful and prolonged train- 
ing, on account both of its intellectual and its aesthetic im- 
portance. A systematic training of the color-sense, some- 
what after the plan roughly sketched above, is a desidera- 
tum both as an element of taste and as a matter of prac- 
tical utility. And a careful discipline of the sense of form 
on its passive and active side is included in the recognized 
school exercises of reading, drawing, writing, etc. In truth, 
in this early stage of education the cultivation of the eyes 
goes on in close association with that of the hand. The 
whole fruit of this companionship will appear by-and-by. 
The separate exercise of the eye in the discrimination of 
form-elements is illustrated in learning to read printed let- 
ters as well as in the study of geometry. 

Nowhere, perhaps, is the limit of the teacher's power 
more plainly seen than in the education of the senses. 
Since discriminative power depends on concentration of 
mind and practice, the child's ability to discriminate col- 
ors, tones, elements of form, etc., may be improved by ju- 
dicious learning. Still, in every case a limit is sure to be 
reached in time, beyond which no further distinctions are 
possible. This limit, set by the structural perfection of 
the organ concerned, is a different one for different chil- 
dren. A child born note-deaf, for example, can never be 
drilled into a fine discriminator of tones. Hence the need 
of varying these exercises according to the capacity of the 
pupil and the results obtainable from the exercise. 

APPENDIX. 

A useful account of the senses, from a physiological point of view, 
is contained in Prof. Bernstein's " Five Senses of Man." On the im- 
portance of the exercise and improvement of sense-discrimination, the 
reader may consult Dr. Bain's " Education as a Science," chap. iii. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE SENSES : OBSERVATION OF THINGS. 

Definition of Perception. — Sense-impressions are 
the alphabet by which we spell out the objects presented 
to ns. In order to grasp or apprehend these objects, these 
letters must be put together after the manner of words. 
Thus, the apprehension of an apple by the eye involves the 
putting together of various sensations of sight, touch, and 
taste. This is the mind's own work, and is known as per- 
ception. And the result of this activity, i. e., the distinct 
apprehension of some object, is called a percept. 

We see from this that perception is an act of the mind. 
In the reception of the sense-impression, the mind is pas- 
sive, dependent on the action of an external force ; but 
in construing this as the sign of some external object, it is 
essentially active. Perception is mental activity employed 
about sense-impressions with a view to knowledge. The 
first stage of this activity was discussed in the last chapter, 
under the head of sense-discrimination. This corresponds 
to the learning of the several letters. We have now to 
consider the second stage, that corresponding to the learn- 
ing of words and their meanings. We have to explain 
how a child comes to regard its sense-impressions as signs 
of the presence of certain external objects, as, for exam- 
ple, certain sensations of sound as indications of a bell 
ringing, a dog barking, etc. 

How Percepts are reached. — The seemingly simple 



HOW PERCEPTS ARE REACHED. 



109 



act of referring a sense-impression to an external object is 
the result of a process of learning or acquisition. As lit- 
tle as a child at first knows the meaning of a word till 
experience has taught him, so little is he able to construe 
his sense-impressions as the signs of objects. In the first 
weeks of life a child can not recognize the external source 
of the sounds that strike on his ear. He has not learned 
to connect the sound of the mother's voice with the mother 
he sees ; nor has he even learned to recognize the direc- 
tion of a sound, as is clearly shown by the blank, wonder- 
ing look of his face, and the absence of a proper move- 
ment of the head and eyes in the direction of the sound. 

The apprehension of an object, say a bell, by the ear, 
involves two mental processes : The first is the discrimi- 
nation and identification of the impression. In order to 
know that a particular impression of sound is that of a 
bell, it must be identified as this impression and not anoth- 
er, say that of a voice. This constitutes the first step in 
the process of perception. It may be marked off as the 
presentative or prehensive element. It presupposes pre- 
vious experience of the impressions. Thus the child can 
not identify a particular sound as that of a bell till after a 
number of repetitions of this impression. 

In the second place, the apprehension of the bell im- 
plies that this particular impression has been interpreted 
as coming from a particular object, viz., the bell. And this 
means that on hearing this sound the child recalls the ap- 
pearance of the bell to sight and its tactile qualities, hard- 
ness, weight, etc. That is to say, the one actual sensation 
of the moment, that of the sound, has recalled and rein- 
stated a whole group of impressions answering to the several 
features or qualities which constitute the object. This sec- 
ond step may be called the interpretative or apprehensive part 
of the process. And since the impressions recalled are 
not directly presented but only represented, this step is 
further known as the representative one. This act of 



HO THE SENSES: OBSERVATION OF THINGS. 

construing or interpreting the impression presupposes that 
in the child's past experience the impression of sound has 
become connected with other impressions. 

We see from this that the interpretation of sense-im- 
pressions presupposes previous processes of a complex 
kind, viz., discriminating a number of sensations of differ- 
ent senses, and grouping or organizing these into a coher- 
ent whole. There are thus two stages in the development 
of percepts: (i) the initial stage of examining things, by- 
way of the different senses and learning to know them ; 
and (2) the final stage of knowing again or recognizing a 
thing. 

Special Channels of Perception. — The sensation 
of each sense tends to recall the other sensations of the 
group to which they belong, and so are capable of being 
interpreted by an act of perception. Thus, a child refers 
sensations of smell to objects, as when he says, " I smell 
apples," just as he refers sensations of light and color to 
objects, as when he says, " I see a candle." Nevertheless, 
when we talk of perceiving we generally refer to knowl- 
edge gained at the time through one of the higher senses, 
and more particularly sight. To perceive a thing means, 
in every-day parlance, to see it. Where sight is wanting, 
touch assumes the function of the leading perceptual 
sense ; and even in the case of those who see, touch is an 
important medium of apprehending objects. Sight and 
touch are thus in a special manner channels of perception. 

The reason why the senses of touch and sight are thus 
distinguished has been hinted at in the previous chapter. 
We there saw that they were marked off from the other 
senses by having local discrimination and an accompani- 
ment of muscular sensation. Owing to these circumstances, 
these two senses supply us with a wider and more varied 
knowledge of objects than the other senses. In smelling 
a flower, or hearing the noise of a passing vehicle, I can 
only seize one aspect or quality of a thing ; in looking at 



PERCEPTIONS OF TOUCH. m 

it I instantly take in a number of aspects, as its color, 
shape, and size. 

The additional knowledge, gained by means of local 
discrimination and movement, is, moreover, of a most im- 
portant kind. This includes first the knowledge of the 
position of things, and along with this a knowledge of 
their " geometrical " or space properties, viz., figure and 
magnitude. And, secondly, it includes a knowledge of 
their " mechanical " or force properties, viz., resistance 
under its several forms of hardness, weight, etc., as made 
known by active touch. And these properties are the 
most essential, forming the kernel, so to speak, of what we 
mean by a material object. 

Touch and sight do not stand on precisely the same 
level as channels of perception. For, first of all, as we 
shall see presently, the knowledge of geometric properties 
is fuller and more direct in the case of touch than in that 
of sight. And, secondly, with respect to the important 
mechanical properties, hardness, weight, etc., our knowl- 
edge is altogether derived from touch. Hence, tactile 
apprehension is to be regarded as the primary and most 
fundamental form of perception. 

Perceptions of Touch. — These may be roughly di- 
vided into (i) perceptions of space and extension, and more 
especially the position, form, and magnitude of objects ; 
and (2) perceptions of things as concrete wholes, such as 
a pebble, an orange, etc. 

The first kind of perception may be illustrated by the 
way in which a child learns the shape and size of a cube, 
say a small wooden brick. Here the sensibility of the skin 
to pressure, its local discrimination, and, lastly, the mus- 
cular sense, all combine in the development of the percept. 
The form of one of the surfaces is ascertained in different 
ways : (1) by moving the fingers over it in various direc- 
tions and noting how long the contact with the body lasts ; 
(2) by passing the fingers about the boundary of the sur- 



112 THE SENSES: OBSERVATION OF THINGS. 

face and noting the uniformity of the direction of the 
movement along each edge, the length of the movement, 
and the change of direction at the angles ; and (3) by plac- 
ing the extended hand over the surface and noting, by 
means of the local discrimination of the skin, where the 
edges touch the hand. The knowledge of any one of its 
surfaces would thus involve the grouping of many sense- 
elements together, and the knowledge of the whole cubical 
form would further involve the grouping of a number of 
these groups together and the completion of this aggregate 
of experiences by taking the brick into the two hands, and 
so gaining a clearer idea of its solidity. 

After repeating this complex act of tactile inspection 
again and again, the different members of the group would 
cohere so closely that the recurrence of a part would suf- 
fice to reinstate the whole. Thus the child, on merely 
taking the brick into his hands, would recall the successive 
experiences of movement just described. That, in this 
way, a child is able to gain very clear perceptions of form, 
is seen in the fact that the blind are capable of picturing 
and reasoning about geometrical forms with great clear- 
ness. And even in the case of children who have the use 
of their eyes, the earliest impressions of form are gained 
from tangible bodies, and to a large extent by the medium 
of active touch. 

In apprehending the presence of a whole concrete 
thing, as a pebble, this group of impressions would be 
taken up into a still larger aggregate. Thus, in learning 
what a pebble is, a child connects what he has observed 
respecting its form with the hardness, coldness, smooth- 
ness, and weight. His knowledge of the pebble is the re- 
sult of all this various sense-experience organized or united 
into a seemingly simple mental product. Where, as in the 
case of an apple or an orange, the other senses supply im- 
portant elements (color, taste, and smell), the group of 
tactile impressions is ample for a subsequent identification 



PERCEPTION OF FORM BY THE EYE. 113 

of the object. The child, on touching an orange, instantly 
apprehends the thing as a whole, that is, recognizes it as 
an orange. 

Visual Perception. — As remarked above, sight is in 
normal circumstances the leading avenue of perception. 
This supremacy is due in part to the fact that in looking 
we can apprehend things at a distance as well as near, and 
also a number of objects at the same time, as the pictures 
on the wall, the buildings of a street, etc. To this must 
be added the fact that when we see things we can tell how 
they would appear to touch. In other words, we translate 
visual impressions into terms of the earlier and more ele- 
mentary experiences of active touch. Seeing is thus to a 
large extent a representative process and an interpretative 
act of the mind. 

Perception of Form by the Eye. — In the perception 
of form the eye is up to a certain point independent of the 
hand. Thus, in learning the direction and length of lines, 
and the form and magnitude of objects as they might be 
drawn on a blackboard, the organ of sight is developing 
its own mode of perception. This visual perception, it is 
plain, resembles the tactile perception in so far as it arises 
out of a number of experiences, passive and active. Thus, 
in finding out, by looking at the gable of a house, what a 
triangle is, the child combines the experience gained in 
moving the eye about the contour, with the composite im- 
pression obtained by the local discrimination of the several 
parts by the retina. The precise direction and length of 
each line presuppose these movements of the eye along 
the outline of the object. It is only when these have been 
executed many times that the perception of form by the 
eye at rest becomes distinct. And this means that in look- 
ing at a figure the impression of the retina suffices to recall 
the experience of the moving eye. 

The perception of any form, such as a cross, an ellipse, 
or the letter M, is the outcome of a process of combining 



U4 



THE SENSES: OBSERVATION OF THINGS. 



a number of form-elements or details and clearly appre- 
hending their relations one to another. Thus, in appre- 
hending the form of the cross the learner must distinguish 
the vertical and horizontal arm, observing their directions 
as well as their relative lengths. The more exactly each 
element is discriminated, and the more clearly the rela- 
tions of position, proportion, and number are seized, the 
more perfect the final percept. 

This perception of form as plane form, or form as it 
can be represented on a flat surface, as a blackboard, is, 
however, fragmentary and abstract. The forms of real 
objects from which a child first gains his knowledge are 
those of solid bodies having the third dimension, thick- 
ness or depth as well as length and breadth. We see one 
part of the surface of a sphere nearer the eye or advanc- 
ing, another part farther off or receding. This discrimi- 
nation of a solid form as distinguished from a flat drawing 
involves the perception of distance. 

Perception of Distance and Solidity. — The modern 
" Theory of Vision," of which Bishop Berkeley was the 
author, tells us that the perception of distance, though 
apparently as direct as that of color, is really indirect and 
acquired. In seeing an object at a certain distance, we 
are really interpreting visual impressions by a reference to 
movement of the limbs and to touch. We can only real- 
ize the distance of an object by traversing, either with the 
arm or with the whole body, the space that intervenes be- 
tween us and it. 

According to this doctrine, children do not at first see 
things as we see them, one nearer than another. This is 
proved by the experience of blind children on first obtain- 
ing the use of their eyes. All objects appear to such as 
touching the eyes. And they can not distinguish between 
a flat drawing and a solid body. It is only after using 
their eyes for some time that they learn to distinguish near 
and far. The development of the perception of distance 



PERCEPTION OF DISTANCE AND SOLIDITY. 115 

takes place by the use of sight and touch together. A 
child finds out how far a thing is from himself by moving his 
limbs. Thus, an infant sitting up at a table finds out the 
distance of something on the table by stretching out its 
hands and noting how far it has to reach before it touches 
the thing. When it is able to run about, the movements of 
its legs become another measure of distance. In carrying 
out these movements the eyes are also employed. The 
child notes the difference to the eye when the object is 
near and when it is farther away. Thus, he observes 
that he has to make his eyes turn inward or converge more 
in the former case, and that the object looks more distinct. 
After many repetitions he learns to connect these experi- 
ences of active touch and these changing effects on the 
eye. When this process of grouping or organizing experi- 
ences is complete, the recurrence of the proper visual ex- 
perience at once suggests the corresponding experience of 
movement and touch. Thus the sensation of muscular 
strain in looking at a near object instantly tells him that 
the object is near and within his reach. The visual sen- 
sation has become a sign of a fact known by the use of 
his limbs. Seeing distance is thus a kind of reading, and 
the meaning of the impression on the eye, like that of the 
letters in a book, has to be learned from experience.* 

The perception of solid bodies illustrates the same 
thing. Here, too, the child has to interpret his visual im- 
pressions by the aid of past experience and the knowledge 
gained by active touch. That the eye has little knowledge 
of solidity is seen in the fact that even an adult may easi- 
ly be deceived in taking flat drawings for solid objects 
(e. g., in the scenery of a theatre). The only way in which 
we can distinctly realize that an object has thickness is by 
taking it into the two hands. 

* The perception of the real magnitude of an object, as distin- 
guished from the apparent magnitude which varies with the distance, is 
closely connected with that of distance. 



Il6 THE SENSES: OBSERVATION OF THINGS. 

The apprehension of solidity by the eye is effected by 
means of certain signs. Thus, we can move the eye from 
a near to a more distant part of an object, and note the 
difference in muscular sensations of the eyes. Even when 
we do not move the eye, we have something to guide us in 
the dissimilarity of the two retinal impressions. In look- 
ing at a flat picture each eye receives a precisely similar 
impression ; but in looking at a solid body their impres- 
sions differ. Thus, in looking at a book held a little in 
front of the face with its back toward us, our left eye sees 
more of the left cover, while the right eye sees more of the 
right. It is by noting this dissimilarity, and connecting it 
with the fact of solidity as known by active touch, that a 
child learns to recognize a solid object with the eyes.* 

Intuition of Things. — In looking at an object, as 
in touching it, we apprehend simultaneously a group of 
qualities. These include first of all purely visual features, 
as its degree of brightness, the distribution of light and 
shade on its surface, its color (or distribution of colors), 
and the form and (apparent) magnitude of its surface. 
Along with these come the closely organized combinations 
of sight and touch, viz., the solid shape, and the nature of 
the surface as rough or smooth. f This may be called the 
fundamental part of our intuition of a particular object. 
In looking at a new object, as a crystal or a botanical 
specimen, we instantly intuit or take in this group of 
qualities, and they constitute a considerable amount of 
knowledge about the object as a whole. In order to know 
the thing as a whole, so as afterward to be able to recog- 
nize it with the eye, this aggregate must be conjoined with 
other qualities known by touch and by the other senses. 

* The fact that the perception of solidity depends mainly on the 
presence of two unlike visual impressions is proved by the stereoscope, 
the two drawings of which, taken from different points of view, answer 
to the two retinal images of a solid body. 

f This is made known to sight by differences of light and shade. 



PERCEPTION OF OUR OWN BODY, 



117 



Thus, in recognizing an orange a child invests it more or 
less distinctly with a particular degree of hardness, weight, 
and temperature, as well as with a certain taste and smell. 

The recognition of a thing as identical with something 
previously perceived is a complex psychical process. It 
involves not only the identification of a definite group of 
impressions, but also the germ of a higher intellectual 
process, namely, the comparison of successive impressions, 
and the detection of similarity amid diversity or change. 
Thus, a child learns to identify a particular object, as his 
mother, or his dog, at different distances and in different 
lights, and — a matter of still greater difficulty — according 
to the particular position and visible aspect of the object, 
as seen from the front or from the side, etc. Children 
require a certain amount of experience and practice before 
they recognize identity amid such varying aspects. And 
in this they are greatly aided by hearing others call the 
thing by the same name. 

Perception of our own Body. — In close connection 
with the perception of external objects the child comes 
to know the several parts of his own body. The sensa- 
tions which are not referred to external bodies are local- 
ized by us in some part of our organism. Thus, organic 
sensations, as skin-sensations of "creeping," muscular 
sensations of cramp or fatigue, are localized in some defi- 
nite region of the body, the arm, or the foot. And the 
deep-seated feelings of comfort and discomfort connected 
with the organs of digestion, etc., are also localized in a 
less definite and vague manner. Such references are not 
possible at the beginning of life. A child has to learn 
where his bodily sensations are located ; and this he does 
by learning to know the several parts of his body. 

The child's own body, like an external object, is known 
by means of the impressions it supplies to his senses, and 
more particularly touch and sight. An infant examines 
its legs, arms, etc., with its hands. By frequent excur- 



Il8 THE SENSES: OBSERVATION OF THINGS. 

sions of these over the surface of the body, the position, 
shape, and size of the several parts become known. The 
eyes, too, are engaged in these early observations, so that 
a visual picture is gradually put together and combined 
with the tactile perception. As this knowledge of the 
bodily form is developed the several bodily sensations 
become better localized. Thus, in inspecting his feet with 
his hands the child is producing sensations of pressure in 
the former. In this way the sensations having their origin 
in that particular region of the bodily surface come to be 
definitely connected with that part as known to touch and 
sight. After this, whenever the child receives a sensation 
by way of the nerves running to that part, he knows at 
once that it is his foot that is giving him the sensation. 

To a child his bodily organism is marked off from all 
other objects by the fact that it is connected in a peculiar 
way with his conscious life, and more particularly his feel- 
ings of pleasure and pain. The experience of pressing 
his foot with his hand differs from that of pressing a for- 
eign body, inasmuch as there is not only a sensation in 
the hand, but an additional one in the foot. Injuries to 
the several parts of the bodily surface, and the applica- 
tion of agreeable stimuli, as soft touches, come to be rec- 
ognized as causes of painful and pleasurable sensation. 
In these ways he comes to regard his body as that by 
which he suffers pain and pleasure. At the same time 
he learns that the movements of his body are immediately 
under the control of his wishes, that his limbs are the 
instruments by which he reacts on his environment, alter- 
ing the position of objects, etc. Hence his body is re- 
garded as a part of himself, and in early life probably 
makes up the chief part of the meaning of the word " self." 
It is contrasted with all other and foreign objects, and in 
a special way with the other human organisms he sees 
around him. 

Observation. — All perception requires some degree 



DISTINCT AND ACCURATE OBSERVATION. 119 

of attention to what is present. But we are often able to 
discriminate and recognize an object by a momentary- 
glance, which suffices to take in a few prominent marks. 
Similarly, we are able by a cursory glance to recognize a 
movement or action of an object. Such incomplete fugi- 
tive perception is ample for rough, every-day purposes. 
On the other hand, we sometimes need to throw a special 
degree of mental activity into perception, so as to note 
completely and accurately what is present. This is par- 
ticularly the case with new and unfamiliar objects. Such 
a careful direction of the mind to objects is commonly 
spoken of as observation. To observe is to look at a 
thing closely, to take careful note of its several parts or 
details. In its higher form, known as scientific observa- 
tion, it implies too a deliberate selection of an object or 
action for special consideration, a close concentration of 
the attention on it, and an orderly going to work with a 
view to obtain the most exact account of a phenomenon. 
Hence we may call observation regulated perception. 

Distinct and Accurate Observation. — Good ob- 
servation must be precise and free from taint of error. 
Many persons' observations are vague and wanting in full- 
ness of detail and precision. The habit of close and ac- 
curate observation of things, their features and their move- 
ments, etc., is one of the rarest of possessions. It presup- 
poses a strong interest in what is going on around us. 
This is illustrated in the fact that a child always observes 
closely and accurately when he is very deeply concerned, 
as, for example, in scrutinizing his mother's expression 
when he is not quite sure whether she is talking seriously 
to him or not. 

Good observation presupposes two things: (1) the ac- 
curate noting of what is directly presented to the eye, or 
the perfect performance of the prehensive part of the pro- 
cess, and (2) a just interpretation of the visual impression, 
or the perfect performance of the second or apprehensive 



120 THE SENSES: OBSERVATION OF THINGS. 

part of the operation. Defects in the first are very com- 
mon. Children fail to note the exact form and size of 
objects, their situation relatively to other objects, etc. To 
see a number of objects in their real order, so as to be 
able to describe them accurately, is a matter of close, 
painstaking observation. 

Any defect in the prehensive part of the process natu- 
rally leads on to faulty interpretation. Hasty and slovenly 
observation of color, form, or magnitude leads the young 
to false ideas of the objects they see, as when a child mis- 
takes a lemon for an orange, two boys romping for two 
boys fighting. And even if the visual element is carefully 
noted, there will be an error of interpretation when the 
impression of the eye has not been firmly connected with 
the tactile and other experiences to which it is related as 
parts of one whole experience. Thus, if a child after see- 
ing some simple experiments with metals fails to properly 
connect the several properties of malleability, fusibility, 
with the lead, iron, etc., the sight of a piece of one of the 
metals will be apt to reinstate the wrong properties. We 
thus see that accurate knowing or recognition depends on 
a careful learning or coming to know. 

Defective and inaccurate observation is hindered by 
mental preoccupation. Dreamy and absent-minded chil- 
dren are, as a rule, bad observers. They only see things 
indistinctly as in a haze. Anything, too, in the shape of 
excitement and emotional agitation is inimical to careful 
observation, because it is apt to excite vivid expectations 
of what is going on, and so to lead to delusive perception. 
Thus, if a child strongly desires to go out, it is. disposed 
to think that the rain has ceased when it is really still fall- 
ing. Emotional children are very apt to read what they 
wish and vividly imagine into the objects before them. 

We see, then, that while perception has its representa- 
tive element, that while the child who distinguishes his 
visual impressions accurately but is unable to interpret 



ACQUIREMENT OF DISCRIMINATION. \ 2 \ 

them never attains to anything but useless scraps of knowl- 
edge, this representative factor has to be kept within due 
limits, and not allowed to hide from view what is actually 
before the eyes. 

The highest kind of observation combines accuracy 
with quickness. In many departments of observation, as 
watching people's expressions and actions, or the scientific 
observation of a rapid process of physical movement or 
change, such as an astronomical and chemical investiga- 
tion, rapidity is of the first consequence. 

Development of Perceptual Power. — Our analysis 
of perception has suggested the way in which our percepts 
are gradually built up and perfected. In the first weeks 
of life there is little if any recognition of outer things. 
The child receives visual impressions, but these are not 
yet referred to external objects. It is by the daily re- 
newed conjunctions of simple sense-experiences, and more 
particularly those of sight and of touch, that the little 
learner comes to refer its impressions to objects. By con- 
tinually looking at the objects handled, the visual percep- 
tion of direction becomes perfected, as also that of dis- 
tance within certain limits. The child learns to put out 
his hand in the exact direction of an object, and to move 
it just far enough.* The perception of the distance and 
solidity of more remote objects remains very imperfect 
before locomotion is attained. The change of visible 
scene as the child is carried about the room impresses 

* A child known to the present writer was first seen to stretch out 
his hand to an object when two and a half months old. The hand 
misses the exact point at first, passing beside it, but practice gives pre- 
cision to the movement. The same child at six months knew when an 
object was within reach. If a biscuit or other object was held out of 
his reach, he made no movement, but as soon as it was brought within 
his reach he instantly put out his hand to take it. On the other hand, 
Prof. Preyer says his boy tried to seize the lamp in the ceiling of a 
railway compartment when fifty-eight weeks old. (" Die Seele des 
Kindes," p. 38.) 
6 



122 THE SENSES: OBSERVATION OF THINGS. 

him, no doubt, but the meaning of these changes only be- 
comes fully seized when he begins to walk, and to find 
out the amount of locomotive exertion answering to the 
different appearances of things. It is some years, how- 
ever, before he begins to note the signs of distance in the 
case of remote objects. The same order shows itself with 
respect to the development of the perception of solidity. 
Thus a child learns in time to distinguish between the flat 
shadows of things on the walls and the pictures in his 
books, and real solid objects. But it is long before he 
learns that the distant hills and clouds are bulging, sub- 
stantial forms.* 

After many conjunctions of impressions children begin 
to find out the nature of objects as wholes, and the visible 
aspects which are their most important marks. That is 
to say, they begin to discriminate objects one from an- 
other by means of sight alone, and to recognize them as 
they reappear to the eye. Development follows here as 
elsewhere the line of interest. It is the objects of great- 
est interest, such as the bottle by which the infant is fed, 
that are first apprehended as real objects. After some 
months of tactile investigation the interpretation of visual 
impressions becomes more easy and automatic. Sight now 
grows self-sufficient. What may be roughly marked off 
as the touching age gives place to the seeing age. Hence- 
forth the growth of perception is to a large extent an im- 
provement of visual capability. 

At first this power of discerning the forms of objects 
with the eye is very limited. A child will note one or two 
prominent and striking features of a thing but overlook 
the others. Thus, in looking at real animals or at his toy 

* M. Perez (" First Three Years of Childhood," pp. 226, 227) re- 
marks that a child of six months will take a flat disk with gradations 
of light and shade for a globe. He also remarks that children of fif- 
teen months and more are liable to make absurd blunders as to the 
distance of remote objects, hills, the horizon, etc. 



DEVELOPMENT OF PERCEPTUAL POWER. 123 

or picture imitations, he will distinguish a quadruped from 
a bird, but not one 'quadruped from another. Similarly, 
he will distinguish a very big dog from a small one, but 
not one dog from another of similar size. 

The progress of perception grows with increase of 
visual discrimination ; that is'' to say, of the capability of 
distinguishing one color, one direction of a line, and so 
on, from another. It presupposes, further, the growth of 
the power of attention which is the main ingredient in ob- 
servation. As experience advances, children find it easier 
to note the characteristic aspects of things and to recog- 
nize them ; and they take more pleasure in detecting their 
differences and similarities. In this way their observations 
tend gradually to improve in distinctness and accuracy. 
Not only so, an increased power of attention enables them 
to seize and embrace in a single view a number of details. 
In this way their first vague, " sketchy " percepts get filled 
out. Thus, a particular flower or animal is seen more 
completely in all its details of color and its relations of 
form. At the same time they acquire the power of appre- 
hending larger and more complex objects, such as whole 
buildings, ships, etc. ; and, further, assemblages of many 
objects, as the furniture in a room, or the plants in a gar- 
den, in their proper relative positions. 

The observing powers may develop in different direc- 
tions, according to special capabilities and special circum- 
stances. The possession of a particular mode of discrimi- 
native sensibility in a high form, and a strong correlated 
interest in the particular class of impressions, will lead to 
a special consideration of things on that side. Thus the 
child with a fine eye for color will be specially observant 
of the color-side of objects. Again, the faculty of obser- 
vation may grow in rapidity of action, and in grasp of a 
multitude of objects, according to the individual's special 
powers of attention. Once more, the development of a 
particular interest in a class of objects, as animals, flowers, 



124 THE SENSES: OBSERVATION OF THINGS. 

faces, etc., will determine a special acuteness of observa- 
tion in respect of these. Thus a boy with a marked love 
of horses becomes specially observant of their forms, ac- 
tions, etc. So a boy with a strong leaning to mimicry and 
a keen, humorous interest in the expression of people's 
faces, etc., will be particularly observant in this direction. 
It may be added that particular enlargements of tactile 
and other experience will serve to give a particular depth 
and richness of suggestion to the individual's percepts. 
Thus a person who acquires special knowledge of the tan- 
gible properties of natural substances, woven fabrics, etc., 
will see more in these objects than another person. 

Training of the Observing Powers. — This branch 
of intellectual training goes on in close connection with, 
and is at the same time the completion of, that training 
of the senses on their discriminative side which was con- 
sidered in the last chapter. The first years of life are 
marked out by nature as the age for exercising the observ- 
ing powers. The objects that surround the child are new 
and excite a vivid interest. He spontaneously spends 
much of his time in manipulating and scrutinizing things. 
The overflowing muscular activity of a healthy child is 
highly favorable to experimental investigation. 

The beginnings of the education of the observing 
powers belong to the nursery, and consist in supplying the 
child with ample room to move about and a good stock 
of objects of interest for manual and visual inspection. 
Nothing is more fatal to this early development than 
checking muscular activity, forbidding children to touch 
and examine things.* By a free exertion of activity the 
child will learn for himself to organize his tactile and 
visual experiences so as to become proficient in interpret- 

* As Miss Edgeworth observes, the best toys for the infant are 
things that can be grasped without danger, as ivory sticks, balls, etc., 
by help of which differences of size and form may be learned. (" Prac- 
tical Education," i, pp. 7, 8.) 



EXERCISE IN OBSERVING FORM. 125 

ing the visual signs of distance, solidity, etc. The addi- 
tion of flat representations of solid objects in picture- 
books is a valuable supplement to this first domestic en- 
vironment, since they help to fix the child's attention in a 
new way on the purely visible side of things, the differ- 
ence and at the same time the similarity between the real 
solid thing and its pictorial representation. A more act- 
ive direction of the observing faculty is required when 
the child grows and is capable of better fixing his attention 
on objects. This is the moment for calling his attention 
to less obtrusive objects at a distance, and so carrying 
forward the process of self-education to a more advanced 
point. 

Exercise in observing Form. — The transition 
from the nursery to the school should be marked by a 
more systematic training of the observing powers. This 
properly begins with exercising the child in the more ac- 
curate perception of form. The Kindergarten system has 
this as its chief aim. The principles which govern this 
early department of training are as follows : (1) The per- 
ception of form is grounded on the child's active experi- 
ences and the use of the hand. It is by the spontaneous 
outgoings of his muscular energy in examining objects and 
constructing them that all perception of real form arises. 
(2) The development of the perception of form should 
proceed from a conjoint tactile and visual, to an inde- 
pendent visual perception. (3) The observation of form 
should be exercised conformably to the general laws of 
mental development, viz., passing from the rude and in- 
definite to the exact and definite, from the concrete to the 
abstract, and from the simple to the complex. The Kin- 
dergarten gifts and occupations clearly satisfy these con- 
ditions in general. Froebel was psychologically right in 
utilizing the child's spontaneous activity, in setting out 
with tangible objects, as the ball, etc., and in attaching so 
much importance to the exercise of the child's construct- 



126 THE SENSES: OBSERVATION OF THINGS. 

ive activity in the reproduction of form by the occupa- 
tions of modeling, stick-laying, paper-folding, etc. All 
such exercises involve a recreation of form by actions of 
the hand similar to those by which the infant spontaneous- 
ly investigates the form of things. Hence they are to be 
regarded as the natural completion of the earlier training 
of the nursery. 

Such exercises do not, however, constitute all that is 
meant by training the child in the perception of form. 
From an early period he is interesting himself in the 
forms of natural objects, as animals, trees, flowers, etc., 
as well as buildings, articles of furniture, etc. And he 
should be exercised in a more close and exact observation 
of these forms. The child naturally observes at first only 
the more salient features of an object, such as the tallness 
of the poplar, the long neck of the swan, which may after- 
ward serve as a rough mark for identifying the object. 
How little he really notes may be seen by his first rude 
attempts at drawing the human figure, the horse, etc. The 
development of the perception of form proceeds analyti- 
cally, the rough outline being first apprehended, and then 
the several details. The educator should follow this order, 
and practice the observer in attention to the minuter de- 
tails of form. In this way the child will grow more dis- 
criminative in his perceptions of form and learn more 
about the minute parts of common and familiar objects. 

Here, again, the hand should be called in, in order to 
reproduce what is seen. The child's spontaneous impulse 
to imitate nature by drawing is one of the most valuable 
ones to the educator. Compared with modeling, drawing 
is to a certain extent abstract, since it separates the visible 
form from the tangible. Accordingly it is best taken up 
after modeling, building, etc. At the same time the child 
commonly manifests the impulse to draw at an early age, 
and the satisfaction of the impulse provides an excellent 
means of gaining a closer acquaintance with visible form. 



CONCRETE OBJECTS. 127 

Not only so, by employing the hand in the production or 
creation of form by definite manual movements, drawing 
supplies a valuable additional means of training the eye 
and the hand in unison, and so of perfecting the connec- 
tions between touch and sight. A child who has become 
skillful in drawing has not only acquired a useful manual 
art, but has helped to develop his power of seeing, i. e., of 
deciphering the symbols that present themselves to his 
eye. In these exercises the teacher should be satisfied 
at first with rough and approximate imitations of natural 
forms, and aim at making these more close and accurate 
by practice.* 

A more advanced stage in the visual perception of form 
is reached when the learner takes up the abstract consid- 
eration of form by a study of the elements of geometry. 
A knowledge of lines, curves, angles, etc., should distinct- 
ly follow a certain amount of exercise in the observa- 
tion and reproduction of concrete forms. To distinguish 
a straight line or a right angle is a dry and uninter- 
esting exercise compared with noting the form of some 
real object, and involves a certain development of the 
power of abstraction. Such exercises should be com- 
menced by references to concrete forms, as the window- 
frame, the edge of the house, its gable, etc. In this way 
the child will gain an interest in the subject, and at the 
same time further develop his perceptions of concrete forms 
by a clearer recognition of their constituent parts. 

The Object-Lesson. — After the exercise of the 
child in the perception of form comes the training of the 
senses as a whole in the knowledge of objects and their 
constituent qualities. The systematic development of 
this side of the training of the senses gives us the object- 
lesson. By this is meant the presentment to the pupil's 
senses of some natural substance, as coal, chalk, or lead ; 

* On the best way to exercise the child in drawing, see Mr. Spen- 
cer's "Education," chap, ii, p. 79, and following. 



128 THE SENSES : OBSERVATION OF THINGS. 

some organic structure, as a plant or animal ; or, finally, 
some product of human industry, as glass or a piece of 
furniture ; and such a detailed and orderly unfolding of 
its several qualities, its capabilities of being acted on by, 
and of acting on, other things, its relations of depend- 
ence on surroundings, etc., as will result in the fullest 
and clearest knowledge of the object as a whole and its 
conditions. It is evident, from this general description, 
that the object-lesson makes a special appeal to the sev- 
eral senses, and, while thus exercising the senses separate- 
ly, helps to train the learner in the connecting and organ- 
izing of a number of impressions. Thus, in an object- 
lesson on one of the metals there is an appeal made to the 
sense of touch (sensations of hardness, smoothness, etc.), 
and in one on salt, an appeal to the sense of taste. The 
object-lesson thus falls into two parts : (i) the detailed 
exposition and naming of the various qualities, and (2) 
the summing up of the results in a description of the 
whole thing. The object-lesson is a training in close ob- 
servation of objects ; and, since the first stage of science 
is observation, including experiment, this form of instruc- 
tion constitutes a fit introduction to the study of physical 
science. Its value depends, first of all, on the extent to 
which the observing powers of the class have been made 
use of. The teacher must not tell the pupils what the 
object is, but stimulate them to obser/e for themselves. 
Again, it depends on the clearness and precision with 
which the several properties have been unfolded, so that a 
complete and accurate idea of the whole may be attained. 
Once more, it involves the proper use of juxtaposition, so 
as to exercise the observer's power of comparison and dis- 
crimination. And, lastly, it implies that the result of each 
separate observation has been carefully recorded by a 
suitable name. The object-lesson, properly carried out, 
is one of 'the best methods of developing in children a 
habit of observation and a taste for scientific experiment. 



PURPOSE OF THE OBTECT-LESSON. 



129 



The object-lesson aims at nothing beyond the training 
of the observing powers themselves. Its purpose is real- 
ized when the object has been accurately inspected and 
its properties learned. Hence it must be marked off from 
all appeals to the senses which subserve the better imagi- 
nation and understanding of a subject dealt with mainly 
by verbal instruction, such as the use of models and maps 
in teaching geography ; coins, pictures, etc., in teaching 
history ; and such an apparatus as Mr. Sonnenschein's in 
teaching the elements of number. All these exercises 
call in the aid of the senses according to the general prin- 
ciple of modern education, that knowledge begins with the 
apprehension of concrete things by the senses of the child. 

While the calling in of the pupil's observing powers is 
thus a characteristic of the right method in all branches 
of teaching, there are some subjects which exercise the 
faculty of observation in a more special manner. Thus, 
the study of geometry and of languages help, each in its 
own special and restricted way, to exercise the visual ob- 
servation of form. But the study which most completely 
and most rigorously exercises the faculty of observation is 
natural science. A serious pursuit of chemistry, mineral- 
ogy, botany, or some branch of zoology, as entomology, 
trains the whole visual capacity, and helps to fix a habit 
of observing natural objects, which is one of the most val- 
uable rewards that any system of education can bestow. 

It is not to be forgotten, however, that the best train- 
ing of the observing powers lies outside the range of 
school exercises. A habit of close observation of nature 
is best acquired in friendly association with, and under the 
guidance of, an observant parent or tutor, in hours of 
leisure. A daily walk with a good observer will do more 
to develop the faculty than the most elaborate school 
exercises. The training of the observing powers is indeed 
that part of intellectual education that most requires the 
aid of other educators than the schoolmaster. And one 



130 



THE SENSES: OBSERVATION OF THINGS. 



evil resulting from our modern aggregation into big towns, 
and our growing school demands on the time and ener- 
gies of children, is that so little opportunity and energy 
remain for those spontaneous beginnings in the observa- 
tion of nature, the forms of hill and dale, the movements 
of stream, waves, etc., the forms and movements of plants 
and animals, which are the best exercise of the observing 
faculty ; and for those simpler and more attractive kinds 
of scientific observation, e. g., collecting birds' eggs, fossils, 
etc., which grow naturally out of children's play-activity. 

APPENDIX. 
On the training of the observing powers, the reader will do well to 
consult Mr. Spencer's " Essay on Education," chap, ii, and Miss You- 
mans's little work on the "Culture of the Observing Powers of Chil- 
dren." The function of the nursery in drawing out the observing 
faculty is well illustrated by Miss Edgeworth, "Practical Education," 
chap, i, " Toys." The difficult subject of the object-lesson is dealt 
with in a suggestive way by Dr. Bain, " Education as a Science," chap, 
viii, p. 247, etc. ; and by Mr. Calkins, " New Primary Object-Lessons " 
(Harper & Brothers), p. 359, etc. The German reader may with ad- 
vantage read Waitz, " Allgemeine Paedagogik," part ii, section I, 
" Die Bildung der Anschauung." 



CHAPTER IX. 

MENTAL REPRODUCTION. — MEMORY. 

Retention and Reproduction. — The senses are the 
source of all ourk nowledge about external things. But, 
if we were only capable of observing objects, we could 
gain no lasting knowledge about anything. Knowledge 
of things is not a momentary attainment, vanishing again 
with the departure of the things ; it is our enduring pos- 
session, which we can make use of at any time, whether 
the objects are before us or not. 

This persistence of the impressions which objects 
make on our minds through the senses is due to that im- 
portant property of the mind called retentiveness. This 
property, as was pointed out in an earlier chapter, is con- 
nected with the physiological fact that the brain centers 
are permanently modified by their various modes of activi- 
ty. Thus the activity of the visual centers involved in 
seeing and observing a flower or a person's face leaves as 
its after-result a lasting trace of this activity, by the help 
of which we can afterward recall the impression of the 
object and think about it. This independent activity of 
the brain is seen in a striking form in the case of one who, 
like Milton, has lost his sight, yet can distinctly recall the 
objects he has seen in the past. 

Retentiveness shows itself in the ability to reproduce 
the impression when occasion presents itself. Thus the 
mind retains the impression of a person's face, of a tune, 



132 



MENTAL REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY. 



and so forth, when it can afterward revive or recall this. 
We know nothing about retention except through the fact 
of mental revival or mental reproduction. It is true that 
the mind can not always recall what it has retained. A 
child is sometimes tenacious in retention, and at the same 
time slow and awkward in recalling what he knows. On 
the other hand, it is evident that what we can not repro- 
duce at any time is not retained. The teacher necessarily 
judges what a child has retained of a lesson by the amount 
he can reproduce under favorable conditions. 

Reproduction and Representation. — Whenever 
the mind thus recalls what is no longer present to the 
senses the process is called representation, i. e., the act in 
which the mind represents to itself what was before pre- 
sented. Thus, in recalling our absent home or friend, we 
see with the mind's eye the object we actually saw when 
it was present. This process is also called reproductive 
imagination, because in thus mentally realizing an object 
in its absence, we are really exercising a form of imagina- 
tion. The result of the operation is known as a mental 
image. The image is the copy of the percept. We pict- 
ure the house as it actually presented itself to our eyes, 
with its proper shape, color, etc. Only, as a rule, our 
images are much less complete and distinct than our per- 
cepts. In recalling a friend's face, we do not ordinarily 
represent all its features as they would actually appear 
when the person was before our eyes. 

As was pointed out in the last chapter, there is an 
element of representation in perception. In seeing a 
globe, for example, we are reproducing tactile experiences. 
Further, in recognizing a familiar object, as our house or 
a friend's figure, we are plainly recalling past percepts of 
this object. This, however, is a lower form of reproduc- 
tion than that which takes place when the object is no 
longer present ; for in this case there is no presentative 
element, and the representation is more complete and 



CONDITIONS OF REPRODUCTION. 



133 



independent. It is this independent activity of the mind 
that we specially think of when we talk of representing or 
picturing objects. 

While we naturally think first of mental pictures, i. e., 
copies of visual percepts, when we talk of images, we must 
be careful to include under the term copies of percepts 
and sense-impressions generally. Thus we must say that 
the mind imagines or forms images of sounds, as words, 
etc., as well as tactile percepts, odors, and tastes. The 
most important images are copies of visual and auditory 
percepts. 

This mental region of pure representation roughly 
answers to what we commonly call memory. To remem- 
ber a thing is to retain an impression of it, so as to be 
able to represent or picture it. Everything that we learn 
has thus to be taken possession of by the mind. The 
knowledge that the child gains, whether by the direct 
examination of objects or by way of words, is acquired 
for the express purpose of retaining and recalling. Even 
the higher and more abstract kind of knowledge has to 
be stored up in the mind for subsequent reproduction. 
Hence the laws of reproduction are of special interest to 
the educator. He has to do with the process of learning, 
or acquisition, of which reproduction is the chief ingredi- 
ent. To understand how to control and direct these pro- 
cesses, with a view to the maximum result in the shape of 
clear and abiding knowledge, is one of the chief objects 
of a study of mental science. 

Conditions of Reproduction. — The most general 
condition of reproduction is a certain degree of recency 
of the original impression. We readily recall any object 
or incident of the immediate past, such as the appearance 
and voice of the person we have just been speaking with. 
Older impressions are, as a rule, less easily recalled. The 
longer the interval between the presentation and the 
representation, the less distinct and prompt will be the 



134 



MENTAL REP ROD UCTION.— MEMOR V. 



latter. The lines the child can repeat a few minutes after 
going over them will tend to disappear after an hour or a 
day or two. It is thus apparent that the after-impressions 
left by what we see, hear, etc., tend to grow less and less 
vivid and distinct as time elapses. The scenes, person- 
ages, and experiences of our remote past are for the 
greater part lost to us. 

Coming now to more special conditions, we may say 
that the capability of representing an object or event some 
time after it has been perceived depends on two chief 
circumstances. In the first place, the impression must 
be stamped on the mind with a certain degree of force. 
This circumstance may be called the depth of the impres- 
sion. In the second place, there is needed in ordinary 
cases the presence of something to remind us of the ob- 
ject or to suggest it to our minds. This second circum- 
stance is known as the force of association. 

(A) Depth of Impression : Attention and Re- 
tention. — In the first place then (assuming that there has 
been only one impression) we may say that a distinct 
image presupposes a certain degree of perfection in the 
impression. A bright object distinctly seen is recalled 
better than a dull one obscurely seen. The chalk diagram 
on the blackboard stands a better chance of being recalled 
than a less forcible impression. For this reason actual 
impressions are in general much better recalled than prod- 
ucts of imagination. A child will generally recall the 
appearance of a place he has actually seen better than 
one that he has heard described. The habit of repeating 
words audibly when we want to remember them is based 
on this principle. 

Again, the permanence of an impression is determined 
not merely by its external character, but by the attitude 
of the mind in relation to it. If our minds are preoccu- 
pied, even a powerful impression may fail to produce a 
lasting effect. Hence we have to add that the permanence 



REPETITION AND RETENTION. 



135 



of an impression depends on the degree of interest excited 
by the object, and the corresponding vigor of the act of 
attention. All strong feeling gives a special persistence 
to impressions, by arousing an exceptional degree of in- 
terest. Where a boy is deeply affected by pleasurable 
feeling, as in listening to an attractive story or in watch- 
ing a cricket match, he remembers distinctly. Such in- 
tensity of feeling, by securing a strong interest and a close 
attention, insures a vivid impression and a clear discrim- 
ination of the object, both in its several parts or details, 
and as a whole. And the fineness of the discriminative 
process is one of the most important determining condi- 
tions of retention. 

The interest determining the force of attention may, 
as we have seen, arise directly out of some aspect of the 
object, as its novelty, beauty, its suggestiveness, and so 
on. A pleasurable feeling, flowing from the perception 
itself, is the best guarantee of close attention and fine dis- 
crimination. The events of our past life which are per- 
manently retained commonly show an accompaniment of 
strong feeling (wonder, delight, awe, and so forth). 
Where this powerful intrinsic interest is wanting, a vigor- 
ous effort of voluntary attention may do something to 
bring about a permanent retention. 

Finally, it is to be observed that our minds are not al- 
ways in an equally favorable state for the retention of 
impressions. Much will depend on the degree of mental 
vigor and brain vigor at the time. A fresh condition of 
the brain, such as is realized after a period of repose, is 
necessary to a deep and lasting after-trace of retention of 
impressions.* 

Repetition and Retention. — We have just assumed 
that the object or event recalled has been perceived but 

* Prof. Bain considers that acquisition or storing up new impres- 
sions is of all forms of intellectual activity that which involves the 
largest consumption of brain-force. 



136 MENTAL REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY. 

once only. But a single occurrence of an impression 
rarely suffices for a lasting retention. Since every impres- 
sion tends to lose its effect after a time, our images re- 
quire to be re-invigorated by new presentations of the ob- 
ject. Most of the events of life are forgotten just because 
they never recur in precisely the same form. The bulk 
of our mental imagery, the natural scenery, buildings, per- 
sons, etc., that form our surroundings, answer to objects 
which we see again and again. Here,<ihen, we have a sec- 
ond circumstance determining the depth of an impression. 
The greater the number of the repetitions, the more endur- 
ing will be the image. Where the repetition of the actual 
impression is impossible, the repeated reproduction of it 
\ serves less effectually to bring about the same result. 
I By repeating to ourselves internally a person's name again 
\ and again soon after hearing it, we help to fix it in the 
\ memory. 

The repetitions must not only be numerous but fre- 
quent. In learning a new language we may look up in a 
dictionary an uncommon or rarely occurring word a good 
number of times and yet never gain a firm hold on it, 
just because the repetitions are not frequent enough ; 
whereas, if the word is a common one, and occurs frequently, 
the same number of references to the dictionary will more 
than suffice. The reason of this is that the after-impres- 
sions tend to fade away after a little time, so that each ef- 
fect must be followed up by another soon enough. The 
process may be likened to that of damming a stream with 
stones. If we throw in the stones with sufficient rapidity, 
we may succeed in fixing a barrier. But if we throw in 
one to-day, and another to-morrow, the effect of the first 
throw will be obliterated by the force of the stream before 
the reinforcing effect of the second is added. 

These two conditions, interest and repetition, take the 
place of one another to a certain extent. The more in- 
teresting an impression, the fewer the repetitions necessary 



ASSOCIATION OF IMPRESSION. 137 

to fix it in the mind. This is illustrated in the words of 

Juliet : 

" My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words 
Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound." 

On the other hand, the more frequently an impression 
recurs, the less interesting does it need to be in order to 
find a lodgment in our minds. As has been humorously ob- 
served, even matters of such little interest to us as the fact 
that Mr. G. sells Eureka shirts stamp themselves on our 
memory after they have been repeatedly forced on our at- 
tention by a sufficient profusion of advertisements. Nev- 
ertheless, in ordinary cases both conditions must be pres- 
ent in considerable force. This certainly applies to the 
larger part of school acquisitions. Interest is rarely 
so keen here as to be able to dispense with a number of 
repetitions. On the other hand, no number of repetitions 
of a lesson will avail if there is no interest taken in the 
subject, and the thoughts wander. 

(B) Association of Impression. — When an impres- 
sion has been well fixed in the mind there remains a pre- 
disposition or tendency to reproduce it under the form of 
an image. The degree of facility with which we recall 
any object always depends in part on the strength of this 
predisposition. Nevertheless, this predisposition will not 
in ordinary cases suffice in itself to effect a restoration 
after a certain time has elapsed. There is needed further 
something present to the mind to suggest the image, or 
remind us of the event or object. Thus the sight of a 
place reminds us of an event which happened there, the 
hearing of a person's name of that person, and so on. 
Such a reminder constitutes the " exciting " as distin- 
guished from the " predisposing" cause. The reason why 
so many incidents of our past life, including our deeply 
interesting dream-experiences, appear to be wholly for- 
gotten is that there is nothing in our present surround- 
ings that distinctly reminds us of them. 



138 MENTAL REPRODUCTION— MEMORY. 

Whenever we are thus reminded of an impression by 
some other impression (or image), it is because this is 
somehow connected in our minds or " associated " with 
the first. Thus the event is associated with the place 
which recalls it, and the person with his name. Hence 
we speak of association as the second great condition of 
reproduction. 

Different Kinds of Association. — One impression 
may be associated with another in different ways. Let A 
stand for the antecedent or reminder, B for the conse- 
quent or the representation called up. Then A and B 
may correspond to two objects locally connected, as two 
adjacent buildings, or to two events following one another 
in time, as sunset and the coming on of darkness. Or, 
again, they may stand for two like objects, as a portrait 
and the original. These various kinds of connection are 
reduced by the psychologist to the smallest number of 
principles or laws of association. They are commonly 
brought under three heads, viz., contiguity, similarity, and 
contrast. 

(I) Association by Contiguity. — Of these kinds of 
association the most important is that known as contigu- 
ous association, or association by contiguity. By this is 
meant the association of two or more impressions through, 
or on the ground of, their connection in time. Its law 
may be stated briefly as follows : Presentations, impres- 
sions, or experiences which occur together, or in im- 
mediate succession, will afterward tend to revive or sug- 
gest one another. 

This principle is illustrated throughout the whole pro- 
cess of learning, both from the actual inspection of things, 
and by way of others' instruction. Whenever the mind 
connects two or more impressions, facts, objects, or ex- 
periences, because they have occurred or presented them- 
selves together, this is an illustration of the law of con- 
tiguity. Thus, in coupling an action with the person who 



ASSOCIATION BY CONTIGUITY. 139 

performs it, or a thing with its name, or an event with the 
place where it occurred, we are illustrating this principle. 

The more important varieties of contiguous associa- 
tion may be brought under the following heads : (1) First 
of all, we have impressions, actions, or events, which occur 
together or in immediate succession, as the sight of a bell 
swinging and its sound, the shining of the sun and the 
feeling of warmth, one bit of a tune and the following bit. 
Among the successions of actions and events the most 
important are those of cause and effect. The child comes 
to know that the sun warms, that rain wets, that hard 
bodies hurt, that his own actions produce certain results, 
e. g., the removal of obstacles by noting how one thing 
follows another, i. e., by connecting things according to 
the law of contiguity. (2) Next may be mentioned asso- 
ciations with objects including persons. Thus the child 
connects the various properties and powers it discovers in 
things, such as the divisibility and the combustibility of 
wood with this substance, the voice, gestures, etc., of per- 
sons with these ; also the uses to which things may be put 
and the gratifications to be obtained from them with the 
objects themselves, such as the ball's capability of being 
rolled, the capability of the toy-bricks to support others, 
and so forth. (3) Our next group consists of local asso- 
ciations, which play a conspicuous part in memory. These 
include (a) connections of objects with places, as the 
cowslips with the fields, books, toys, etc., with the places 
where they are put away and kept ; (£) events and places, 
as the meal, the lesson, the punishment, and so on, with 
the room in which they take place ; and {c) places with 
other and contiguous places, and features of the environ- 
ment with others which are contiguous in place, as the 
sea and the sandy shore, the river and the bridge across 
it, one house or street and the adjacent one. 

All learning by instruction, too, illustrates the same 
law. In learning about distant places and about the past 



I 4 MENTAL REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY. 

history of his country, the child has to build up associa- 
tion of time and place like those he builds up in the 
course of his daily observations of the things around him. 
More than this, learning proceeds very largely by aid of 
verbal associations, and more particularly associations of 
things with words, and one word with another. In learn- 
ing the names of objects, places, persons, etc., the child is 
linking together impressions that occur at the same time. 
Thus he learns the name of a person by hearing the sound 
while the person is present. On the other hand, commit- 
ting anything to memory by stringing on a series of words 
illustrates the association of consecutive impressions. One 
word of a verse has to be connected with the following, and 
so on. 

Strength of Associative Cohesion. — The law of 
contiguity speaks of a tendency to call up or suggest. This 
means that the suggestion does not always take place, that 
the antecedent is not always followed by the consequent, 
and that, in some cases, the sequence is much more 
prompt than in others. We may easily see by observation 
that this is so. Thus we sometimes hear names of persons 
and places without representing the corresponding objects ; 
in other words, the names do not call up the appropriate 
images. In other cases, again, the revival is certain and 
rapid, as when a familiar word in the native tongue, as 
" home," " father," calls up the idea which it symbolizes. 
Indeed, in a certain class of cases, the revival is so rapid 
that the mind is hardly aware of a transition from ante- 
cedent to consequent. Such are the suggestions of a 
vocal action by the connected sound (articulate or musi- 
cal), of a manual movement by a visible sign, and of a 
feeling, say of anger, by the visible expression. We ex- 
press this fact by saying that there are different degrees of 
cohesion among our impressions, and consequently differ- 
ent degrees of suggestive force. 

On what Suggestive Force depends. — The sug- 



ON WHAT SUGGESTIVE FORCE DEPENDS. 141 

gestive force in any case depends on the same two cir- 
cumstances as we found governing the persistence of im- 
pressions regarded as single or apart. These are first the 
amount of attention given to the impressions when they 
present themselves together ; and secondly, the frequency 
of their concurrence. 

Two impressions may become closely associated with 
one another by a special act of connective attention at 
the time. Thus, when a child is greatly interested in a 
stranger, and pays particular attention to his name at the 
same time, he in a manner makes one object of them, so 
that the recurrence of the one suggests the other. In 
learning a lesson in geography the child has to firmly 
conjoin things, e. g., a town with the country in which it 
lies, the river on which it stands, etc. The greater the 
force of attention directed to two objects, and the more 
closely the mind grasps them by one act of attention, the 
stronger will be the resulting association. This presup- 
poses a development of the power of attention in grasping 
a plurality of objects in their relations of time, place, etc. 
It is to be added that this work of conjoining impressions 
is only possible when the mind is free from preoccupation, 
and the brain is in a fresh and active condition. 

It is, however, but rarely that a single conjunction of 
two experiences effects a permanent association. Repeti- 
tion of the original experiences is necessary in the great 
majority of instances. All our enduring knowledge about 
the things around us, the varying phases of earth and sky, 
the locality we live in, the persons we are familiar with, 
involves repetitions of impressions together or in company 
with one another. The child's association of sunlight and 
warmth, of a street with the interesting shops in it, of a 
person with his acts of kindness, is the result of many im- 
pressions. The more frequent the conjunction of the im- 
pressions, the stronger the resulting bond of association 
between them. The closest associations, such as those 



1 42 MENTAL REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY. 

between vocal actions and the resulting sounds, words, 
and the things named, the movements of expression, and 
the feelings expressed, are the result of innumerable con- 
junctions extending throughout life. 

Trains of Images.— All that has been said respect- 
ing pairs of impressions and the resulting representations 
applies also to a whole series. A good part of our knowl- 
edge consists of trains of images answering to recurring 
and oft-repeated series of sense-impressions. Thus our 
knowledge of a street, and of a whole town, consists of a 
recoverable train of visual images. In like manner, we 
are able to recall a series of visible movements or actions, 
as those of a dance, and a succession of sounds, as those 
of a tune. Our knowledge of every kind is closely con- 
nected with language, and is retained to a considerable 
extent by help of series of words. Again, our practical 
knowledge, our knowledge how to perform actions of 
various kinds, such as dressing and undressing, speaking 
and writing, is made up of chains of representations. 

All such chains illustrate the effects of attention and 
of repetition. The more closely a child has attended to 
the order of a series of notes or words, events in a story, 
and so forth, the better will the several links of the chain 
be connected. And the more frequently the series has 
been gone over, the easier will it be for the mind after- 
ward to reproduce it. In cases where the repetitions 
have been very numerous, the mind is able to retrace the 
succession with perfect ease and in a semi-conscious way, 
as in going over the alphabet, the numerals, etc. 

At first these trains of representations are not self- 
supporting. They are bound up with, and dependent on, 
actual presentations. Thus a child learning a tune is able 
at first only to recall the successive notes step by step as 
he hears the tune sung (or plays it himself). That is to 
say, revival is still dependent on the stronger suggestive 
force of actual impressions. Gradually the series of 



VERBAL ASSOCIATIONS. 143 

images becomes independent of the exciting force of im- 
pressions. Thus, when the tune is perfectly learned, the 
child's mind can run over the whole without any aid from 
the ear. 

Verbal Associations. — Among the most important 
of our associations are those of words. Language, being 
the medium by which we convey our impressions and ex- 
press our thoughts one to another, plays a conspicuous 
part as a suggestive force. We habitually recall our im- 
pressions by the aid of verbal signs. This is especially 
true of all the knowledge we gain from others, or learn 
by instruction and reading. Such knowledge, more par- 
ticularly the more abstract kinds, is embodied in, and re- 
produced by, words. 

Every word is in itself the result of joining together 
a number of elements. The first step in learning to 
speak is the linking on of a definite variety of vocal 
action to its proper sound. Later on, when the child 
learns to read, he combines with this associated couple 
the visual symbol, viz., the printed word. Finally, in 
learning to write, the child builds up new associations be- 
tween definite groups of finger-movements and the corre- 
sponding visual symbols. 

Again, in learning language, there are not only these 
associations between the different constituents of the 
word, but also the connecting of the word as a whole 
with its proper idea. Learning to speak, to read, and to 
write, plainly includes this further connection between 
the word symbol and its meaning. 

These verbal groups are capable of becoming associ- 
ated in definite series, and it is by the aid of such series 
that our knowledge of things in their order of time and 
place is retained. This applies to what the child himself 
observes, for he loves to describe what he has seen to 
others, and in so doing he makes his knowledge more 
lasting by embodying it in series of words. And it ap- 



144 



MENTAL REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY. 



plies still more to all the knowledge gained by others' in- 
struction. Here the facts are presented to him by the 
medium of language, which thus naturally comes to be 
taken up into the whole mental impression retained.* 

(II) Association by Similarity. — Although the 
principle of contiguity covers most of the facts of mem- 
ory, it is usual to lay down other principles of association 
as well. Of these the most important is association 
through similarity. This principle asserts that an impres- 
sion (or image) will tend to call up an image of any ob- 
ject previously perceived which resembles it. Thus the 
face or voice of a stranger suggests by resemblance an- 
other and familiar one ; a word in a foreign language, a 
word in our own, and so forth. The more conspicuous 
the point of resemblance between two things, and the 
greater the amount of their resemblance compared with 
that of their difference, the greater the suggestive force. 

This kind of association is plainly marked off from the 
first. Contiguity associates objects, events, words, etc., 
which present themselves together, or at (or about) the 
same time in our experience. Similarity, on the other 
hand, brings together impressions, objects, and events 
widely remote in time. Thus a face or a bit of landscape 
seen to-day may remind us of another seen years ago in a 
distant part of the globe. 

The acquisition of knowledge is greatly aided by this 
"attraction of similars," as it has been called. If every- 
thing we had to learn, whether by actual observation or 
by books, were absolutely new, the burden would be in- 
supportable. When a boy or a girl studies a new language, 
for example, the similarities very greatly shorten the labor. 
Thus, when the German word Vogel calls up the familiar 

* It is not meant that all the elements of the word are equally dis- 
tinct in all cases. When a child learns something by oral instruction 
he will recall the sounds ; when he learns from a book, he will rather 
recall the visible words. 



ASSOCIATION BY CONTRAST. 



145 



name fowl, its meaning is at once fixed. The new acquisition 
is permanently attached to the pre-existing stock of acqui- 
sitions through a link of similarity. Or, as we commonly 
express it, the new is assimilated to the old. It may be 
added that every discovery of similarity in the midst of 
diversity is attended by a feeling of pleasurable excite- 
ment or elation ; and this acts as a powerful force in bind- 
ing together the similar things in the memory. 

(Ill) Association by Contrast. — In addition to the 
principle of similarity, another principle of association 
known as contrast is frequently laid down. By this is 
meant that one impression, object, or event, tends to calf 
up the image of its opposite or contrast. Thus it is said 
that black suggests white ; poverty, wealth ; a flat country, 
a mountainous, and so forth. 

The part played by contrast in memory is due to the 
fact that all knowledge begins with marking off one thing 
or one property of a thing from other and different ones. 
The first step in acquiring knowledge is to discriminate. 
The child first discriminates impressions and objects of 
the same kind which are widely unlike, or opposed to 
one another, as light and dark, sweet and sour, a big and 
a little dog, etc. This would tend to build up in the 
child's mind a number of associations between contrasting 
things. It may be added that all strong dissimilarity is in 
itself impressive, and tends to stamp itself on the mind. 
Children are struck by contrast as they are by likeness. 
Thus the sight of a tall and a short person walking together, 
or of something very unusual, as a dwarf, is certain to 
arrest their attention, and so to further the retention of a 
vivid after-impression of the objects in association. In 
learning, this principle may be made use of. Thus, a 
strongly marked contrast in two contiguous countries, or 
two consecutive reigns in English history, helps to fix the 
association in the learner's mind.* 

* Mr. Fitch gives a good example of the effect of contrast or unex- 
7 



146 MENTAL REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY. 

Complex Associations. — So far it has been assumed 
that association is simple, that each element of knowledge 
only enters into a single associative combination. But 
this does not correspond with the facts. Association is 
highly complex. One element may enter as a member 
into a number of distinct combinations. Thus the image 
of the Colosseum at Rome is associated with that of events 
in my personal history, of pleasant days passed at Rome, 
of historical events, such as the gladiatorial combats of the 
Empire, its conquests and luxury, etc. The threads of 
association are not distinct and parallel, like the strings of 
a harp, but intersect one another, forming an intricate 
network. 

Co-operation of Associations. — One result of this 
complexity is that different threads of association con- 
verge in the same point ; so that the recalling of a fact 
may take place by the co-operation of a number of sug- 
gesting forces. The general effect of such co-operation 
may be stated in the principle that the more numerous the 
associations between a particular impression and other 
mental elements, and the more firmly it is associated with 
each, the more likely is it to be recalled. 

In recalling a series of words, for example, as those of 
a poem, the child's mind may travel along any one of a 
number of parallel paths. Thus it may move now along 
that of the sounds, now along that of the visual signs, and 
now along the series of images or ideas corresponding to 
the objects described and events narrated. And thus, if 
the members of one series are not firmly knit together, his 
mind can make use of the other series. Thus, in forgetting 
how the sounds follow one another, it may take advantage 
of the visual series, the images of the printed words. 

Tq take another and somewhat different kind of ex- 

pectedness in imprinting a fact on the memory, viz., learning for the 
first time that " Rule Britannia " was written by Thompson, the singer 
of quiet pastorals. " Lectures on Teaching," p. 130. 



OBSTR UCTIVE ASSOCIA TIONS. 



H7 



ample : the date of an historical event is associated with 
that of simultaneous events at home or abroad, and of 
preceding and succeeding events. And so a child may- 
recall it byway of any one of these channels. These com- 
binations include associations by similarity as well as by 
contiguity. A person's name may be recalled not only by 
recalling his appearance, the book of which he is the 
author, and so on, but also by way of some other name 
which it resembles. Thus the succession of Saxon kings 
is aided by the similarity of their names. In like manner 
the learning of the verses of a poem is aided by the simi- 
larities of meter and rhyme. 

Obstructive Associations. — While looked at from 
one point of view the fact of the complexity of association 
is an aid to memory, looked at from another it is an ob- 
struction. If an impression or fact is associated with a 
number of other impressions, disconnected one with an- 
other, then the mind in setting out from this image is 
liable to be borne along any one of a divergent series of 
paths. Accordingly it is less likely to strike upon any one 
particular path that is required at the moment. It is like 
being in a town and having to find one's way out in a par- 
ticular direction, instead of being outside and having to 
find the way into it. The multiplicity of paths which was 
an advantage in the one case is a hindrance in the other. 
The errors of confusion into which children are apt to fall 
when, in repeating a poem, singing a tune from memory, 
and so forth, they go off on a wrong mental tack, are due 
to the fact that certain members of the series they are 
recalling, e. g., phrases of the poem or of the tune, enter 
into other associations, and so lead their minds astray. 
This effect of association in leading the mind away from 
what is wanted has been marked off as obstructive associ- 
ation. 

Active Reproduction : Recollection. — The repro- 
duction of impressions is very often a perfectly passive or 



148 MENTAL REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY. 

mechanical operation, in which there is no control of the 
process by the will. In many of our idle moments, as in 
taking a walk in the country, the mind abandons itself to 
the forces of suggestion. 

In contrast to this passive reproduction, there is an 
active reproduction in which the will co-operates. Here 
the succession of images is still ultimately determined by 
the laws of association. The will can not secure a revival 
of any impression except by the aid of these laws. A child, 
for example, can not recall yesterday's lesson simply by 
resolving, if t4ie lesson has not previously been learned 
and connected with other knowledge. But he can by an 
effort of will guide and control the operations of his mind 
at the time, and so aid in the reproduction of what he has 
learned. This active side of reproduction is best marked 
off as recollection. 

The will exerts itself here in an act of mental concen- 
tration, which serves to give greater distinctness and per- 
sistence to what is before the mind. Thus, if a child is 
asked the date of a certain battle, he may by an act of 
concentrated attention give clearness and fullness to the 
image of the battle. And by so doing he helps to give 
effect to the associative force connecting the event and the 
date. Not only so, the will accomplishes an important 
work in resisting obstructive associations, turning away 
from all misleading suggestions, and following out the 
clews. The revival of an impression, as of a name, or an 
event, is very often a gradual process. We are often dimly 
aware beforehand of the character of the impression or 
fact we desire to call up clearly. And by a resolute effort 
we may keep pursuing the right path till we reach it. 

It is not only in this form of a severe effort to recall 
what is temporarily forgotten that the co-operation of the 
will is important. It enters, in a less marked manner, into 
all our ordinary processes of mental reproduction. Even 
in repeating a well-learned poem the child's will, by an 



RECOLLECTION. 1 49 

effort so slight that he maybe scarcely aware of it, steadies 
the whole operation, securing the due succession of the 
several members of the train, and the avoidance of mis- 
leading suggestions. And the relaxation of this attitude 
of attention at any moment would be fatal to the repro- 
duction. 

This ability to control the reproductive processes 
reaches its highest development in a habit of going over 
the contents of memory, and following out, now one path, 
now another, according to the purpose in hand. It is this 
ability which is illustrated in the readiness of a child to 
find facts associated with a particular place or period, 
examples, analogies, etc., when called upon to do so. 
This ready command of the mind's store of knowledge by 
the will presupposes that there has been an orderly ar- 
rangement of the materials, that when new acquisitions 
were made, these were linked on (by contiguity and simi- 
larity, to old acquisitions. It is only when there has been 
the full co-operation of the will in this earlier or acquisi- 
tive stage that there can be a ready command of the ma- 
terials gained in the later stage of reproduction. 



CHAPTER X. 

MEMORY (CONTINUED). 

Memory and its Degrees.— Memory is the power 
of retaining and reproducing anything that has been im- 
pressed on the mind, whether by way of the senses or 
through the medium of language. Xjts laws were consid- 
ered in the foregoing chapter. We have now to examine 
into the several varieties of this mental power, and its 
mode of development. 

The degree of perfection with which we remember 
anything may be measured by two main tests — (i) the 
length of time during which the mind retains the impres- 
sion, and (2) the degree of distinctness of the images 
recalled and the readiness with which they are recalled. 
A child remembers well when he remembers long and per- 
manently. And he remembers well when he can call up 
distinctly what he has learned. 

Although we commonly speak of memory as if it were 
a simple indivisible faculty, it would be more correct to 
say that it consists of a number of distinct powers, as the 
retention of sights, sounds, and so forth. It is one thing 
to recall a musical sound or a series of such sounds, an- 
other to recall a group of visible objects. There are as 
many compartments of memory as there are kinds of im- 
pression. Thus there is a memory for visual impressions, 
and another for auditory impressions. Within the limits 
of one and the same sense, too, there are distinct differ- 



REVIVABILITY OF IMPRESSIONS. 



151 



ences of memory. Thus the memory for colors is differ- 
ent from the memory for forms, the memory for musical 
sounds from the memory for articulate sounds. In addi- 
tion to these retentions of passive impressions there are 
retentions of active experiences, as our various manual 
movements and our vocal actions. 

Speaking generally, and disregarding for the present 
individual differences, we may say that the higher the 
sense in point of discriminative refinement the better the 
corresponding memory. We appear to recall sights best 
of all. Our knowledge of things is largely made up of 
visual pictures. Next to sights come sounds. As pointed 
out above, words play an important secondary part in the 
memory of things. Then follow touches, which are less 
easily revived, and finally smells and tastes,* which are 
only faintly revivable. Further, since the muscular sense 
is characterized by a high degree of refinement, the reten- 
tion of our active experiences is in general relatively good. 
It must be remembered, too, that our muscular experi- 
ences are uniformly accompanied by passive impressions, 
and that these serve materially to support the retention. 
Thus the child recalls the manual movements involved in 
writing or in playing the piano, by the aid of visual images 
of his moving hands. 

Beginnings and Growth of Memory. — Memory 
presupposes a certain exercise of the senses and the 
growth of perception. Images do not appear till sense- 
knowledge has reached a certain stage of development. 
The inability of the infant mind to keep up an image 
even a short time after an impression is illustrated in 
the fact that after examining a biscuit-tin and finding 
nothing in it, it will presently put its hand in again, quite 
losing sight of its previous experience. On the other 

* It has often been remarked that though we dream of banquets, it 
is the look of the delicious viands that we imagine rather than their 
flavors. 



1 5 2 MEMOR Y— {CONTINUED). 

hand, children, even in this early period, clearly display 
the lower form of retentive power, viz., that of recog- 
nizing objects when they reappear after an interval. 
Thus a child less than three months old will remember 
the face of his nurse or father for some weeks. The 
first distinct images are the result of many accumulating 
traces of percepts. They are such as are closely associ- 
ated with, and so immediately called up by, the actual im- 
pressions of the moment. The interesting experiences of 
the meal, the bath, and the walk are the first to be dis- 
tinctly represented. As the interest in things extends, and 
the observing powers grow, distinct mental pictures of ob- 
jects are formed. A child of three months who had been 
accustomed to watch a bird singing in a cage, when it 
happened to see the cage without the bird, showed all the 
signs of bitter disappointment.* 

Repetition of Experience.— As experiences repeat 
themselves and traces accumulate, the mental images be- 
come more distinct, and are more firmly associated ; also 
the number of representations and of associative links in- 
creases. The learning of the meaning of words, which 
begins about the age of six months, i. e., several months 
before the actual employment of them, greatly enlarges the 
range of suggestion.! After this the mother or the nurse 
is able to call up the image of absent objects, such as per- 
sons or animals, by talking of them. The repetition of 
conjunctions of experience further brings about whole 
groups and series of representations. The child's mind is 
able to pass not only from the actual impression of the 

* M. Perez. " The First Three Years of Childhood," p. 147. Mr. 
Darwin, in some notes of one of his children, records the first distinct 
appearances of ideas or images at five months. At this age the child, 
as soon as his hat and cloak had been put on, became very cross if not 
taken out at once. 

•{•Mr. Darwin's boy at the age of seven months would turn and 
look at his nurse when her name was pronounced. 



HOW MEMORY IMPROVES. 153 

moment to the image of something immediately accom- 
panying it, but from this last to another image, and so on. 
Thus a child of eighteen months will mentally rehearse a 
series of experiences, as those of a walk : " Go tata, see 
geegee, bowwow," etc. 

New Experiences. — The child's experience is not a 
mere series of repetitions. There is a continual widen- 
ing of the range of objects and impressions. This exten- 
sion is due in part to the expansion of his interest in 
things, and in part to the changes in his environment. In 
this way fresh materials are being stored up in the mem- 
ory. And the growth of memory shows itself in the in- 
creasing range and rapidity of these new acquisitions. 

These two aspects of the growth of memory, the attain- 
ment of a firmer hold on what has been learned, and the 
extension of the area of acquisition, are to a certain extent 
opposed. The further fixing of the old uses up mental 
energy required for adding new elements to the stock of 
acquisitions. The conservative tendency in memory 
works against the progressive. And conversely, the throw- 
ing of mental energy into the work of acquiring new 
knowledge tends to the displacement of the old. This lat- 
ter effect is more manifest in early life.* The child has 
his past impressions rendered indistinct by the flood of 
new ones that excite his interest and engage his mental 
energy. This effect, however, becomes less noticeable as 
his powers gain in strength. A child of six or eight years 
manages to lay up new materials with far less loss of old 
ones than one of three or four. And this advantage is due 
not merely to an improvement in the capacity of memory, 
but in part to an increased ability to discover the links of 
association between the new and the old. 

How Memory Improves. — This process of growth, 
this continual increase in the store of acquisitions, implies 

* In old age the other effect, the exclusion of new acquisitions by a 
tenacious clinging to the old, is most apparent. 



154 MEMORY— {CONTINUED). 

an improvement in the power of seizing and retaining 
new impressions. By this is meant that any particular ac- 
quisitive task will become easier, and that more difficult 
feats of retention will become possible. 

The progress of retentive and reproductive power may 
be viewed under three aspects. First of all, impressions 
will be acquired or stored up more readily (for a given 
time). Less concentration and fewer repetitions are 
needed for the fixing of an impression. Or, to put it 
otherwise, a given amount of concentration and repetition 
will lead to a storing up of more material, that is, more 
complex groups of impressions. This may be called in- 
creased facility in acquisition. Secondly, impressions are 
retained longer. A given amount of effort in the acquisi- 
tive stage will result in a more enduring or permanent re- 
tention. This aspect may be marked off as an increase in 
the tenacity of memory. Thirdly, this progress implies a 
more perfect form of revival. That is to say, impressions 
will be recalled more readily and with a higher degree of 
distinctness and fidelity than formerly. 

Causes of Growth of Memory. — This increase in 
retentive power is due to some considerable extent to the 
spontaneous development of the brain powers. All men- 
tal acquisition appears to involve certain formations or 
structural changes in the brain. The capability of the 
organ of undergoing these changes, or what has been 
called its plastic power, increases rapidly during the early 
part of life. Impressions of all sorts stamp themselves 
more deeply on the mind of a child ten years old than on 
that of a child three or four years old, owing to this 
greater plasticity of the brain. This condition explains 
the precocity of memory. It is commonly said that the 
power of storing up new impressions reaches its maximum 
in early youth, and the fact is undoubtedly connected 
with the physiological fact that later on the structure of 
the brain is more set, or less modifiable. 



VARIETIES OF MEMORY. 155 

While the development of memory 13 thus dependent 
on the gradual unfolding of the plastic power of the brain } 
it is not wholly determined by this. A child whose facul- 
ties were not duly exercised by the supply of external ob- 
jects, and of impressions to be stored up and recalled* 
would not attain to the normal degree of retentive power 
of his years. The actual progress of memory, the im- 
provement in the aptitude to acquire and reproduce 
knowledge, is the result of a constant exercise of the 
faculty. The precise effects of this exercise will be 
spoken of presently when we come to consider the differ- 
ent directions in which memory is susceptible of develop- 
ment. 

Varieties of Memory, General and Special. — 
There is probably no power which varies more among 
individuals than memory. The interval which separates 
a person of average memory from one of the historical 
examples, as Joseph Scaliger, Pascal, or Macaulay, seems 
scarcely measurable.* 

One person's memory may differ from another's in a 
number of respects. In the first place, one learner may 
exhibit- more of one of the properties of a good memory 
specified above. For example, one boy will be quick in 
acquiring, but not correspondingly tenacious, illustrating 
the saying u easy come, easy go." Another boy will re- 
tain firmly what he has once thoroughly learned, but be 
wanting in readiness in bringing out and using what he 
knows. On the other hand, a boy may show himself 
particularly smart in recalling and displaying his knowl- 
edge, and yet, like many a fluent talker, be only a super- 
ficial learner. These differences give well-marked peculiari- 
ties of character to the memories of different individuals. 

In the second place, there are very distinct differences 

* Casaubon says of Scaliger : " He read nothing (and what did he 
not read ?) which he did not forthwith remember." Pascal says he 
never forgot anything which he had read or thought. 



156 MEMORY— {CONTINUED). 

among children and adults with respect to the range of 
memory, or the amount and variety of material which can 
be retained. Some persons of exceptional endowment 
have a good average power of retaining impressions of all 
kinds, whereas there are others who have a low average 
capacity. This would be called a difference in general 
memory. 

From these differences in average power of retentive- 
ness we may distinguish differences in special directions, 
or special memory. Thus, for example, one boy will be 
found to have a good retentive power for impressions of 
sight or of hearing as a whole, whereas others will show 
a deficiency on this side. Or, again, a child may display 
special aptitude in retaining some particular variety of 
these, as impressions of color or of musical sound. Or, 
once more, our memory may display particular strength 
in the retention of some circumscribed group of objects^ 
as faces. In this way arise what are known as the musical 
memory, pictorial memory, the memory for faces, scenery, 
etc. As illustrations of such exceptional retentive power 
in particular directions, may be mentioned Horace Vernet 
and Gustave Dore, who could paint a portrait from mem- 
ory ; Mozart, who wrote down the " Miserere " of the Sis- 
tine Chapel after hearing it twice. 

Even differences in general power of memory prob- 
ably turn to a considerable extent on special differences, 
namely, in verbal retention. Although to recall words 
is not the same as to recall things, the latter operation can 
not be carried on to any considerable extent apart from 
the former. Hence a large, capacious memory has in all 
cases been largely sustained by an exceptional verbal re- 
tentiveness. 

Besides the points of difference just enumerated, there are others 
which are by no means unimportant. Thus we find that memories 
vary not only with respect to the particular impressions which are best 
recalled, but also with respect to the particular mode of grouping 



CAUSES OF DIFFERENCE. 157 

which is most successful. Thus, some appear to connect visible objects 
locally better than others ; whereas these last may have a better power 
of linking together successive pictures answering to events. The 
former would have a better local, pictorial, or geographical memory, 
the latter a better historical, or possibly a better scientific memory. 
Closely connected with these differences are those due to the habitual 
way of committing things to memory, or arranging acquisitions in the 
mind. Some minds tend to connect things with their adjuncts of time 
and place, whereas others rather arrange their impressions according 
to their relations of similarity, cause and effect, etc. 

Causes of Difference. — These differences are plainly 
due either to native inequalities or to differences in the 
kind and amount of exercise undergone in the course of 
the past life. There are native differences with respect to 
the average retentive power, by reason of which one child 
is from the first capable of retaining impressions of all 
kinds more easily than another. Such inequalities are no 
doubt connected with differences in the degree of struct- 
ural perfection of the organs as a whole, namely, the 
sense-organs and the brain. As Locke observes, "An 
impression made on bees-wax or lead will not last so 
long as on brass or steel." * In addition to these origi- 
nal differences of brain plasticity as a whole, there are 
special differences connected with the varying degrees of 
perfection of particular sense-organs. Thus a child with 
a good natural ear for musical sounds would be likely to 
retain these impressions better than another child wanting 
this sense-endowment. And this for a double reason : 
(1) because such a superiority would imply a finer dis- 
criminative capacity in respect of sound (and retentive- 
ness varies roughly with the degree of discrimination) ; 
and (2) because this natural superiority commonly carries 
with it a special interest in the impressions concerned. A 
child with a good ear for musical sounds will in general 
take special pleasure in noting their peculiarities. 

At the same time it is clear that the differences observ- 
* "Concerning Education," § 176. 



158 MENTAL REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY. 

able in people's memories are due in part to differences of 
circumstances, exercise, and education. While in the case 
of every individual the amount of "natural retentiveness " 
or degree of " brain plasticity " limits the power of memory 
as a whole, much may be done by suitable exercise to 
improve the faculty within these limits. The discipline 
of the school, if judicious, tends very materially to im- 
prove the child's memory by developing the potential 
capacities of his brain. 

It is, however, in the improvement of memory in 
special directions that the effects of exercise are most 
conspicuous. Assuming the whole retentive power of the 
individual's brain to be a definite quantity not susceptible 
of being increased by exercise, it is evident that his special 
circumstances and education will determine the particular 
channels into which this brain-energy is diverted. It is 
well known that the habitual direction of the mind to any 
class of impressions very materially strengthens the reten- 
tive power in respect of these. The blind not only per- 
ceive by touch better than those who see, but recall and 
imagine touches in a way that we perhaps can hardly 
understand. Owing to this effect of habitual concentra- 
tion each mind becomes specially retentive in the direction 
in which its ruling interest lies. Thus every special em- 
ployment, as that of engineer, linguist, or musician, tends 
to produce a corresponding special retentiveness of mem- 
ory. 

It is of the greatest importance to understand the pre- 
cise effects of exercise on the improvement of memory as 
a whole and in special forms. As already pointed out, 
there are limits set to the retentive powers of every indi- 
vidual. The whole aggregate of acquisitions is determined 
by the child's co-efficient of brain plasticity. Conse- 
quently, energy used up in strengthening the memory on 
one side necessarily hinders an equal development of it on 
other sides. Not only so, the exercising of the memory in 



TRAINING OF THE MEMORY. 159 

any given direction develops certain predominant interests 
and modes of association which tells against the conquest 
of a new region of acquisition. Thus, a boy who has been 
absorbed in linguistic study, in analyzing the forms of 
verbal structure, is, pro tanto, disqualified for a genuine 
study of literature, as such. His habit of considering 
grammatical forms would impede the free concentration 
of the thoughts on the quality of the ideas and of the 
literary style.* 

There is no doubt a set-off against this. All learning 
is one and the same process. Consequently, the learning 
one thing well will undoubtedly help the pupil to attain 
the art of learning things well generally. Thus, the attain- 
ment of readiness and skill in mastering materials, in fixing 
the thoughts, in arranging, and so on, will very materially 
reduce the labor of learning a new subject. 

Again, so far as the new subject presents points of 
analogy and attachment to the old one, the earlier attain- 
ments will of course further the later ones. Thus, a boy 
who has mastered one science will be better placed for 
attacking another. This helpful effect, however, is most 
apparent where the new and the old subjects belong to 
the same domain of learning. The mastery of a number 
of languages helps the acquisition of a new one to so large 
an extent that a man can go on gaining in the power of 
learning languages long after the period of greatest plas- 
ticity of brain is past. 

Training of the Memory. — To exercise and im- 
prove the memory is allowed by all to be one chief part of 
the business of the educator, and more especially the 
school-teacher. Hence it is a matter of importance to 
understand what is involved in the training of the faculty, 
and by what methods it may be best effected. 

* This is emphasized by Beneke, who observes that " every mental 
connection already formed, and formed with a certain degree of 
strength, is prejudicial to the formation of the new connection." 



160 MENTAL REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY. 

The training of the memory aims directly at exercising 
the child in storing up and reproducing a quantity of val- 
uable intellectual material, impressions, facts, and truths. 
This material is obtained either directly by the observa- 
tion of real things, as in the object-lesson, or indirectly by 
way of verbal instruction. The more firmly the knowl- 
edge is retained, and the more readily and distinctly it is 
reproduced, the better the training. 

Along with this result, the accumulation and mastery 
of so much knowledge, the educator aims by means of 
such acquisition at improving the child's power of acquir- 
ing and retaining other knowledge than that learned in the 
process. In other words, he seeks to produce a good type 
of the acquisitive or learning faculty in general. Ao 
Locke puts it, " the business of education is not, as I 
think, to make them (the young) perfect in any one of the 
sciences, but so to open and dispose their minds, as may 
best make them capable of any, when they shall apply 
themselves to it." * And so far as the teacher makes this 
wider result his object, he will be guided in his choice of 
materials, as well as of method, by their fitness to contribute 
most effectually to the improvement of the learning faculty. 

The culture of a child's memory claims the educator's 
attention from the first. As a precocious faculty it needs 
to be exercised by the parent before the period of school 
life. The fact that early impressions are the most lasting 
makes it specially important that a right direction should 
be given to the first development of the faculty, f 

This regulation of the acquisitive processes may be said 
to begin with the use of language by the nurse and the 
mother in naming to the child the various objects of sight. 
The systematic training of the memory should be first car- 
ried out in close connection with observation. The mean- 

*"Of the Conduct of the Understanding," ed. by Prof. Fowler, p. 44. 
f " Natura tenacissimi sumus eorum, quae rudibus annis percepi- 
mus." (Quintilian.) 



TRAINING OF THE MEMORY. ^i 

ing of words should be taught by connecting them with 
the real objects, that is to say, by simultaneously naming 
and pointing out an object. The naming of the proper- 
ties and effects of things is an important completion of the 
object-lesson. As supplementary to this, the child should 
be exercised in recalling by means of words the impres- 
sions directly received from external objects. The parent 
can do much to develop the memory of the child by en- 
couraging him to describe what he sees, to narrate the 
day's experience, and so forth. 

After a sufficient store of first-hand knowledge has 
thus been accumulated, the memory should be trained in 
the acquisition of knowledge about things at second-hand, 
that is to say, through the medium of instruction. The 
early period of school life is said to be the most favorable 
one for the building up of such verbal acquisitions. It 
costs less effort in this early stage of development to learn 
the concrete facts of history, geography, or language, than 
it would cost at a later date. Hence it has been called 
the "plastic period." * 

In training the memory the different characteristics of 
a good memory should be kept in view. These, as already 
pointed out, are : (i) aptitude in applying the mind to a 
subject and acquiring knowledge ; (2) a firm grasp of 
what is thus learned, or tenacity of memory ; and (3) 
readiness in recalling and making use of what has been 
stored up in the mind. To this some would add a fourth 
excellence, viz., fidelity or accuracy in reproduction, f A 

* Prof. Bain regards the period of maximum plasticity as extending 
from about the sixth to the tenth year. ("Science of Education," p. 
186.) 

f Quintilian says, " Memorise duplex virtus : facile percipere et 
fideliter continere." Dugald Stewart distinguishes between quickness, 
tenacity and readiness (" Elements of the Philosophy of the Human 
Mind," chap, vi, § 2). J. Huber adds the fourth excellence, fidelity 
(" Ueber das Gedachtniss "). Mr. Quick has pointed out that a good 
memory brings "into consciousness what is wanted, and nothing else." 



1 62 MENTAL REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY. 

glance at these suggests that there are two main divisions 
in the art of training the memory : (a) the calling forth of 
the pupil's power of acquisition, or aptitude in storing up 
knowledge ; (b) the practicing him in recalling what he 
has learned. In respect of each part, a judicious and 
effective training will proceed by recognizing the natural 
conditions of retention and the particular stage of devel- 
opment reached. Although in practice these run on to- 
gether, we may, to a certain extent, treat them as separate 
processes. 

(a) Exercise in Acquisition. — In this stage the first 
rule to be attended to is to take the child at his best. 
Committing anything to memory is a severe demand on 
the brain energies, and should so far as possible be rele- 
gated to the hours of greatest vigor and freshness. The 
morning is the right time for learning. Heavy preparation 
| \work in the evening, especially in the case of young chil 
dren, is distinctly injurious. I At the same time, the prac 
tice of refreshing the impressions of the day by going over 
notes of lessons has undoubted advantages ; and many a 
1 learner has testified to the fact that rehearsing a lesson 
before falling asleep is an aid to the lively reproduction of 
it on the morrow. 

The next rule is that every resource should be used to 
make the subjects to be learned as interesting as possible. 
The complaints of many distinguished men about the 
drudgery of school learning may remind us how easy it 
is to overlook this condition. A large number of boys 
have, like the old writer Schuppius, taken heart by com- 
mitting things to memory "in spem futurse oblivionis." * 
It has been observed by an eminent living teacher that 
" the memory of the young is very good if they care for 
what they are about." In order to secure this condition 

* Quoted by Mr. Quick in a highly interesting lecture, on "The 
Teacher's Use of the Memory." See " Journal of Education," July, 

1884. 



I 



EXERCISE IN ACQUISITION. 163 

we must consult the learner's natural tastes to some extent, 
and keep in view what Locke calls " the seasons of apti- 
tude and inclination." And we must further seek to de- 
velop an interest in the subjects studied. The awaken- 
ing of interest consists not only in developing the intrin- 
sic attractiveness of subjects, but also in helping the child 
to realize the uses of knowledge, and the power it brings 
to its possessor. Perhaps one of the chief drawbacks of 
school as compared with home teaching is that it tends to 
put the day's lessons so completely outside the circle of 
home-interests that the pupil comes to look on the knowl- 
edge gained as something artificial and unreal. Where, 
on the other hand, the lessons are given at home and 
under the supervision of an intelligent mother or father, 
the attractions of learning are vastly increased by the 
opportunities opened up for applying it.* The parents 
should always co-operate with the teacher in seeking to 
work against this tendency to divorce knowledge from the 
real interests of life. To a child toiling with the difficul- 
ties of French or German, a half-hour's easy chat in that 
language with the father or mother will bring a stimulus 
the school-master can never provide. The mere talking 
over the day's lesson with a sympathetic parent is a pow- 
erful encouragement. Dr. Johnson tells us that when a 
child he used, after acquiring a new piece of knowledge, 
to run and tell it to an old woman of whom he was fond, 
and that this practice helped to imprint what he learned on 
his memory. 

Again, in training the memory a judicious use must be 
made of the principle of repetition. This condition should 
be observed in giving the instruction. Thus, when the 
teacher writes the chief points of an oral lesson on the 

* Miss Edgeworth emphasizes the importance of cultivating the 
memory and the inventive faculty together. " Children who invent ex- 
ercise their memory with pleasure from the immediate sense of utility 
and success." " Practical Education," vol. iii, p. 101. 



164 MENTAL REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY. 

blackboard he introduces a new sense-medium, the eye, 

Cand so tends to fix the subject by the force of repetition. 
Revision lessons, going over the work of the term, are an- 
other illustration of the value of repetition. In addition 
to this, the pupils should be encouraged to ruminate on 
the subject-matter of the lesson after it is over, to write 

\ out an epitome of it, and to talk it over. And here again 
the parent may supplement the work of the teacher. The 
advantage of writing out and giving an oral account of 
what has been learned, soon afterward, is that it requires a 
steady concentration of the thoughts on the subject. Any 
system of instruction that does not allow adequate time 

; for this mental brooding over new acquisitions is con- 
demned on that account. All hurry in getting over the 
ground is fatal to permanent recollections. Seneca ob- 
serves : " Dediscit animus sero quod didicit diu." 

Lastly, the educator should make ample use of the 
laws of association. This includes two things : (1) the 
connecting of the several parts of the new matter in the 
best possible way one with another; and (2) the connect- 
ing of the new acquisition with the old. Thus, in teach- 
ing a geographical fact, say the position of Liverpool, its 
relations to other places, as America, Manchester, etc., 
should be made clear. Similarly, in narrating an historical 
event its several actions and incidents should be clearly 
set forth in their order of time, also the antecedent and 
attendant circumstances fitted to throw light on the causes 
of the event be added. There should, moreover, be a 
certain order of procedure, the more important events 
being used as a central thread about which the subordi- 
nate events are entwined. In this way the materials are 
arranged, and the retention greatly promoted. 

Again, in connecting the new with the old, all available 
aid should be derived from tracing similarities under the 
form of analogies, e. g., between the Norman invasion of 
England and the earlier invasions. As supplementary to 



LEARNING BY HEART. 165 

this, the teacher should bring out the points of difference 
and contrast between the events, e. g., between the effects 
of the Saxon and Norman invasions on the population of 
the island. We thus see that the most effectual way of 
arranging the materials for purposes of retention is pre- 
cisely that which best subserves the understanding of the 
whole.* 

Learning by Heart. — Among the most constant of 
the associations resorted to by the teacher are the verbal 
ones. Teaching necessarily proceeds by the medium of 
language. And the pupil helps to remember what he 
learns by the aid of words. The full use of these verbal 
associations is seen in what is known as learning by heart. 
This implies that the learner firmly retains a piece of 
knowledge in a definite verbal form, which form serves as 
a support of the ideas acquired as well as a medium for 
reproducing these. The learning of the multiplication- 
table, grammatical rules, and poetry illustrates the pro- 
cess. 

There is an obvious danger in this mode of learning ; 
it tends to a mechanical habit of committing words and 
not ideas to memory. That is to say, the mind of the 
learner uses the verbal series not simply as a support of, 
but as a substitute for, the sequence of ideas. This par- 
rot-like mode of learning is particularly insidious, because 
it appears to save the learner, and certainly saves the 
teacher, a good deal of trouble. The verbal memory is 
strong in children, and they are prone to lean on it to ex- 
cess ; and it is plainly a much simpler problem for the 
teacher to test whether a child has retained the verbal 
form than whether he has grasped the ideal substance. 
Owing to these and other reasons, such as the greater 
value attached to the verbal memory when books were 

* Miss Edgeworth remarks that the order of time is the first and 
easiest principle of association. Arrangement according to logical 
connection will follow later. " Practical Education," vol. iii, p. 92. 



1 66 MENTAL REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY. 

scarce, the older method of teaching was characterized by 
the predominance of merely verbal acquisition. And the 
chief direction of modern educational reform has been the 
substitution of a real knowledge of things for a mere 
knowledge of words. Hence the practice of learning by 
heart has fallen into disfavor. "Learning by heart," says 
Locke, " . . . I know not what it serves for but to mis- 
spend their time and pains, and give them a disgust and 
aversion to their books." Pope satirizes the practice in 
the " Dunciad " : 

" Since man from beast by words is known, 
Words are man's province, words we teach alone." 

It is probable that this revolt from the tyranny of 
words has led educationists to undervalue the real service 
of language in learning. In many cases the embodiment 
of knowledge in a precise verbal form is necessary, e. g., 
in arithmetical and other formulas, the rules of grammar, 
the laws of science.* And in every case the verbal mem- 
ory should be allowed a certain play. As was pointed 
out above, the men who have been most remarkable for 
learning have been greatly helped by their verbal memory. 
And in early life, when the aptitude of committing words 
to memory is so strong, it would be folly to make no use 
of it in education. What the teacher has to take care of 
is, that he does not use the child's verbal memory to urge 
him on to learn what he can not yet understand ; that the 
ideas are firmly retained along with the words, and that 
the pupil is not slavishly dependent on them, and can put 
his knowledge into other forms when required. 

It might be well to distinguish between learning by 
heart and learning by rote, confining the former to the 
legitimate practice of learning by help of a definite verbal 
form, and reserving the latter for the pernicious practice 

* This has been well illustrated by Mr. Fitch. " Lectures on Teach- 
ing," p. 131, and following. 



ART OF MNEMONICS. 1 67 

of learning words instead of the facts and truths they 
represent. Thus, in committing a poem to memory, it is 
important to distinguish an accurate reproduction of the 
whole poem, words and ideas, from the parrot-like repro- 
duction of the mere sounds. It is evident that the former 
is by far the more interesting exercise. And it may be 
added that in reality it is the easier too. Where the child 
has only the verbal associations to help him, he is much 
more likely to forget than when he grasps the meaning 
too, and so has as an additional aid to recollection in the 
links of connection that join together the successive ideas 
— a fact that might easily be tested by giving a child first 
a poem dealing with a very abstruse subject and quite 
above his comprehension, and afterward a simple and 
attractive ballad.* 

Art of Mnemonics. — In ancient times great impor- 
tance was attached to certain devices for aiding memory 
and shortening its work, which devices have been known 
as artificial memory, memoria tec/mica, and the art of 
mnemonics. Thus, among the Greek and Roman teachers 
of oratory, much emphasis was laid on a topical memory, 
i. e., the connecting of the several heads of a discourse 
with different divisions of a house or other building, so as 
to recover them by the aid of visual pictures of these 
places. And in modern times attempts have been made 
to shorten the process of learning, dates, etc., by mne- 
monic word-forms, and lines. This idea of relieving 
memory owed much of its apparent importance to the 
theory that the main business of learning is to commit 
words to memory. When this theory obtained, learning 
was necessarily a dry occupation, and the pupil's mind 
was wearied by excessive tasks in verbal acquisition. 

* Strictly speaking, what is called learning by rote derives some as- 
sistance from the associations of the ideas. As Jean Paul Richter 
dryly observes, word-memory, as distinct from thing-memory, would be 
best tested by committing to memory a sheet of Hottentot names. 



1 68 MENTAL REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY. 

Hence the eagerness to find devices for shortening the 
toil. Now, that this theory is abandoned, less importance 
is attached to a mnemonic art. When things are taught 
only in so far as they can be understood, it is held that 
the relations of place, time, cause and effect, etc., between 
the facts should form the main basis of acquisition. In 
other words, the more things are connected in their 
natural relations, the less will be the task imposed on the 
verbal memory.* 

Although there are no definite rules for aiding the 
memory which are valid in all cases, there is such a thing 
as a skillful management of the memory. This will in- 
clude the formation of habits, not only of concentration 
and repetition, but of selecting and grouping or arranging. 
Memory-labor is greatly economized by detecting what is 
important and overlooking what is unimportant. When 
Simondes offered to teach Themistocles the art of mem- 
ory, the latter answered, " Rather teach me the art of 
forgetting." Children are apt to overload their minds 
with useless matter, and they should be exercised in selec- 
tion. The labor of memory is lightened, too, by finding 
appropriate " pegs " on which to hang new acquisitions. 
Among these pegs must be reckoned the places in which 
information can be found. To associate book-knowledge 
with particular books, and places in these, other kinds of 
knowledge, with particular persons (experts), is a great 
saving of memory-labor. This has been called the index- 
memory. 

Learners will unconsciously further the work of learn- 
ing by all manner of devices that can not readily be re- 
duced to a definite formula. Thus, one child in learning 

* For an account of the different systems of mnemonics, see article 
" Mnemonics," " Encyclopcedia Britannica," and article " Memory," in 
"Chambers's Encyclopaedia" ; and for a critical inquiry into the value 
of artificial aids to memory, see Dugald Stewart's "Elements of the 
Philosophy of the Human Mind," chap, vi, § 7. 



EXERCISE IN RECALLING. i6g 

that the Tudors are followed by the Stuarts will notice 
the odd sequence, T. S. ; and by so doing will retain the 
succession more easily. In learning a foreign language, 
the pupil will often shorten the labor by discovering slight 
and fanciful resemblances between the new vocables and 
familiar words in his mother-tongue. Such devices are 
perfectly allowable so long as the subject-matter is con- 
nected in an arbitrary way only, as in the case of names 
of sovereigns, chief towns, etc., lists of irregular verbs, 
and so forth. They only become mischievous when they 
draw off the attention from natural and logical relations. 
Where the matter committed to memory is such as re- 
quires to be learned in a definite verbal form, the use of 
alliteration and verse-form, as in the well-known mne- 
monic lines in grammar, logic, etc., is a valuable aid to 
the memory. 

The aids thus resorted to will differ in the case of dif- 
ferent children. Some children will remember ideas 
better by the aid of visual pictures, others better by 
series of sound-representations. The young are wont to 
help themselves out of the difficulty of retaining what is 
difficult, e. g., letters, numbers, dates, by the aid of visual 
forms (geometrical schemes, and so on). And teachers 
would do well to find out these spontaneous tendencies 
of children's minds, and to aid them in the process of 
economizing intellectual labor. 

(b) Exercise in Recalling'. — In addition to exercis- 
ing the child in committing to memory, the teacher has 
to exercise him in reproducing what has been learned. He 
does this for a variety of reasons. First of all, he requires 
to test the child's power of retention and the tenacity of 
his memory. Again, he continually needs to recall past 
acquisitions in order to make sure of taking the pupil on 
to an intelligent grasp of new ones. In expounding any 
subject, the elements learned at the outset are required 
from time to time as the pupil advances to the higher 



170 MENTAL REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY. 

stages. And here the child should be required to repro- 
duce for himself. Lastly, it is desirable to examine chil- 
dren in a wider and more searching way as to what they 
have learned, with a view to make them ready in looking 
up facts when they are wanted, finding illustrations of 
principles, and so forth. Such exercises tend to develop 
readiness in reproduction, a quality hardly less valuable 
than retention ; for, as Locke observes, " the dull man who 
loses the opportunity while he is seeking in his mind for 
those ideas that should serve his turn, is not much more 
happy in his knowledge than one that is perfectly ignorant." 

This part of the training of the memory should be car- 
ried out partly by the parents and partly by the school- 
teacher. The home can be made the field of such exer- 
cise by encouraging the child in recalling what he has 
momentarily forgotten, in recounting his experiences, in 
giving a sketch of his day's lessons, and so forth, and 
thus practicing him in the voluntary command of his ac- 
quisitions, in clearness and accuracy of description, and 
in an orderly method of arranging his materials. But it 
is to the teacher that we must look for the systematic ex- 
ercise of the memory in this respect. Skill in putting 
questions and in examining is one chief qualification of a 
good educator. How to separate real from merely verbal 
knowledge, and thorough knowledge from a superficial 
smattering ; how to eliminate the effects of hasty " cram " 
and to make sure of a firm, tenacious grasp of knowledge ; 
how to test the valuable quality of promptness in repro- 
duction, without discouraging those who are tenacious 
though slow — these are among the difficult problems of the 
modern teacher and examiner. 

Subjects which exercise the Memory. — All 
branches of study exercise the memory in some measure. 
The student of the higher mathematics remembers the 
principles and the demonstrations of his science, and this 
largely by the aid of language or other visual symbols. 



EDUCATIONAL VALUE OF MEMORY. 



171 



But when we talk of a subject exercising the memory we 
mean more (or less) than this. We refer to those subjects 
which have to do mainly with the particular, and the con- 
crete, and which appeal but little to the understanding. 
Such subjects are natural science, in its simpler or de- 
scriptive phase, geography, history, language, and the 
lighter departments of literature. Arithmetic, though now 
recognized as a subject which necessarily calls forth the 
child's powers of generalizing and reasoning, also makes 
heavy demands on the verbal memory. 

As was pointed out above, exercise tends to improve 
the capacity of learning in particular directions rather 
than as a whole. A pupil who has exercised his memory 
mainly in the study of literature, though he will have 
greatly strengthened it in the further acquisition of this 
kind of knowledge, will not have materially added to his 
capacity of learning other subjects, as natural science. 

It would seem to follow from this that a full and com- 
plete exercise of memory involves the taking up of a 
number of subjects, as literature, science, and so on. A 
certain range and variety of subjects is thus good for 
the learner. At the same time, a considerable number 
of disconnected subjects carried on together is preju- 
dicial to the memory, by preventing that firm joining to- 
gether of elements into a compact whole which is the 
condition of the best kind of memory. "Aiunt," writes 
Pliny, "multum legendum esse, non multa." Locke held 
that the true secret of learning is to learn one thing at a 
time ; and so admirable a scholar as Lessing tells us he 
followed this rule in his self-education. And it is very 
doubtful whether our modern fashion of introducing so 
many new subjects at the same time is the most efficient 
method of training the memory. 

Educational Value of Memory. — The value set 
on the training of the memory at different times and by 
different writers has been a very different one. The old 



172 



MENTAL REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY. 



idea was to identify memory and knowledge. " Tantum 
scimus quantum memoria tenemus." As already ob- 
served, to know a thing implies that an impression is re- 
tained. Knowledge is the more or less permanent after- 
result of a past process of learning or coming to know. 
This is apparent to all. The difficulty begins when we 
ask what is the relation of memory to the higher faculties 
of judgment, imagination, etc., and to that fuller knowl- 
edge which we call understanding. That a certain devel- 
opment of the memory is necessary to the due discharge 
of the higher intellectual functions follows from the laws 
of mental development, and will be fully illustrated by- 
and-by. Unless the mind is stored with a good stock of 
concrete impressions there will be no materials for the 
imaginative or inventive faculty to combine, or for the un- 
derstanding to reduce to general concepts. As Kant 
observes, " The understanding has as its chief auxiliary 
the faculty of reproduction." Every great writer and dis- 
coverer has taken pains to cultivate his memory.* 

On the other hand, it is a matter of common testimony 
that the cultivation of memory to a high point may be 
hurtful to these higher faculties ; " beaucoup de memoire, 
peu de jugement," says the French proverb. Similarly, 
Pope observes : 

" Thus in the soul while memory prevails, 
The solid power of understanding fails." 

This points to a real danger in exercising the memory. 
Its importance has been, and still is perhaps, greatly over- 
rated. This was the characteristic fault of the old method 
of loading children's minds with a mass of ill-digested 
learning.f The precise value of the memory in relation 

* Dugald Stewart says he can scarcely recollect one man of genius 
who had not " more than an ordinary share " of retentive power. 

f Miss Edgeworth gives an interesting explanation of the reasons 
why so much importance was attached to memory up to recent times. 
" Practical Education," vol. iii, p. 57, etc. 



EDUCATIONAL VALUE OF MEMORY. 



173 



to the understanding of facts and the practical applica- 
tions of knowledge should never be lost sight of. In 
training the memory, the teacher should exercise the judg- 
ment at the same time in the selection of what is really 
important. In this way overloading the mind will be 
avoided, and the higher faculty will be improved. Further, 
as Dugald Stewart observes in his remarks on what he 
calls a " philosophical memory," the learner, in commit- 
ting new materials to memory, should be exercised in that 
orderly arrangement of acquisitions, and that classification 
of facts under their proper heads, which is not only a great 
saving to the memory, but secures in the very process of 
storing up materials of knowledge a certain amount of 
exercise of the understanding itself. 

APPENDIX. 

On the development and cultivation of the memory the reader will 
do well to consult Dugald Stewart, " Philosophy of the Human Mind," 
part i, chap, vi ; Locke, " Some Thoughts on Education," especially 
sec. 176 ; Miss Edgeworth, " Essays on Practical Education," vol. ii, 
chap, xxi ; Mdme. Necker, " L'Education," livre vi, chap, vii ; J. G. 
Fitch, " Lectures on Teaching," chap, v ; Beneke, " Erzieh.- und Unter- 
richtslehre," vol. i, sects. 20-22 ; Waitz and " Allgem. Paedagogik," 
2d -part, 3d sec. There are some good remarks on the cultivation of 
memory in Kant's essay, " Ueber Paedagogik." 



CHAPTER XI. 

CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

Reproductive and Constructive Imagination. — 

In the act of reproduction the mind pictures objects and 
events by means of what are called images ; and thus re- 
production is a form of imagination. But what is popu- 
larly known as imagination implies more than this. When 
we imagine an unfamiliar coming event, or a place which 
is described to us, the images in our minds are not exact 
copies of past impressions. The results of our past expe- 
rience, or the contents of memory, are being in some way 
modified, transformed, and recombined. Hence this form 
of imagination has been marked off as productive imagi- 
nation. 

This process of producing new images and groups of 
images out of old materials appears in a number of differ- 
ent forms. In its lower developments it is a comparatively 
passive process, in which the will takes no part, and the 
movements of which are capricious and swayed by feeling. 
The childish fancy illustrates this lower variety. The 
higher form is an active process, in which the will directs 
the several steps to a definite result. This more perfect 
form of imaginative activity is known as constructive im- 
agination. 

The Constructive Process. — This process of con- 
struction may be said roughly to fall into two stages, (a) 
Of these the first is the revival of images of past objects, 



THE CONSTRUCTIVE PROCESS. 



175 



scenes, etc., according to the laws of association. Thus, a 
child, in building up an idea of Africa, of the Spanish 
Armada, and so on, necessarily sets out with facts of his 
own experience recalled by memory. It is the same with 
his more fanciful creations of fairy-land and its inhabit- 
ants. 

It follows that the excellence of the constructive pro- 
cess is, in every case, limited by the strength and clearness 
of the reproductive faculty. Unless memory restore the 
impressions of past experience we can not picture a new 
scene or a new event. Thus, unless a child recalls, with 
some measure of distinctness, one or more of the blocks 
of ice which he has actually seen, he can not imagine an 
iceberg or a glacier. The more readily the reproductive 
faculty supplies the mind with elements, the better the 
result is likely to be. 

(b) The images of memory being thus recalled by the 
forces of suggestion, they are worked up as materials into 
a new imaginative product. This is the formative or con- 
structive act proper. The process resembles that of build- 
ing a new physical structure out of old materials. These 
have to be broken up, what is useless rejected, what is 
useful and congruous with the rest selected, and the whole 
put together in an orderly way so as to build up a new 
structure. 

This part of the process is the work of the will, guided 
by a clear representation of the result aimed at, and by a 
steady judgment as to what is fitting for the purpose in 
hand. And it is on the quality of this guiding sense of 
fitness that the excellence of the result mainly depends. 
When this is wanting, the materials supplied by reproduc- 
tion remain in a disorderly mass, and confuse the mind. 
And the more completely the will, directed by the sense 
of what is fitting, masters the chaos, the more perfect the 
final formation. According as a poet, for example, has a 
clear and discriminating, or a dull and obtuse, sense of 



iy6 CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

what is beautiful, harmonious, etc., his constructive work 
will be well or ill performed. 

This constructive activity assumes a lower and a 
higher phase. In the case of a child listening to a story- 
it is directed from without, and subserves the reception 
of knowledge. In the case of a poet creating a new 
scene or action it is directed from within, and subserves 
origination. 

Various Forms of Construction. — The essential 
process in imagination, viz., construction, enters into a 
variety of mental operations. These may be grouped 
under three main heads : (i) construction as subserving 
knowledge about things ; (2) practical construction as 
aiding in the acquisition of knowledge how to do things, 
or to adapt means to ends ; and (3) construction as satis- 
fying the emotions. The first may be called the intellect- 
ual imagination; the second, the practical imagination 
or invention ; and the third, the aesthetic or poetic imagi- 
nation. 

(A) Intellectual Imagination. — Every extension of 
knowledge beyond the bounds of personal experience 
involves some degree of imaginative activity. This is seen 
alike in the acquisition of new knowledge from others re- 
specting things, places, and events, and also in the inde- 
pendent discovery of new facts by anticipation. The first 
is the lower or receptive form of imagination, the second 
the higher and more originative. 

(1) Imagination and Acquisition. — The process of 
recalling, selecting, and regrouping the traces of personal 
experience is illustrated in every case of acquisition. 
What is ordinarily called " learning," whether by oral 
communication or by books, is not simply an exercise of 
memory ; it involves an exercise of the imagination as 
well. In order that the meaning of the words heard or 
read may be realized, it is necessary to form distinct men- 
tal images of the objects described or the events narrated. 



REDUCING THE ABSTRACT. 



177 



Thus, in following a description of a desert, the child be- 
gins with familiar experiences called up by the words 
" plain," "sand," and so on. By modifying the images 
thus reproduced by memory he gradually builds up the 
required new image. 

It may be noted that here as elsewhere knowledge 
consists in discriminating and assimilating. The child 
has to assimilate what is told him in so far as it is like his 
past observations, and at the same time to note how the 
new scene differs from the old ones. The formation of a 
distinct and accurate image will greatly depend on the 
degree of perfection attained in this part of the process. 
In following a description children are apt to import too 
much into their mental picture, taking up the accidental 
associations with which their individual experience has in- 
vested the words used. And by so doing they do not 
sufficiently distinguish between the new and the old. 
That is to say, the process of selection is incomplete. 

On the success of this imaginative effort depends to 
an important extent what is known as the understanding of 
the description. If, for example, the mind of a child, in 
following a description of an iceberg, does not distinctly 
realize its magnitude, he will not be prepared to under- 
stand the dangers arising to ships from such a floating 
mass. Here we see the close relation between clear imagi- 
nation and clear thinking — a relation to be spoken of again 
by-and-by. 

Reducing the Abstract to the Concrete.— This 
imaginative realization of an object or process by the aid 
of descriptive terms is exceedingly difficult. Language 
is in its nature general and abstract. Hence all verbal 
description involves a gradual process of reducing lifeless 
generalities to a living concrete form. This is effected 
by adding to the general name a number of qualifying 
terms, each of which helps to mark off the individual 
thing better from other things. Thus the teacher, in de- 



178 CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

scribing a desert, probably begins by some general term, 
as a big place, and gradually makes this definite and con- 
crete by adding limiting or qualifying epithets, such as 
fiat, bare, and so forth. In like manner, in describing a 
king or a statesman, he progressively individualizes the 
person by enumerating his several physical and mental 
qualities, such as tall, handsome, wise, and so forth. The 
process of realizing the description turns on the combina- 
tion of those several qualities into a concrete object. 
The scientific description of a new animal or plant by 
means of a highly technical terminology illustrates the 
difficulties of this process of " concreting the abstract " in 
a yet more marked manner. 

(2) Imagination and Discovery. — The discovery 
of new facts is largely a matter of careful observation and 
patient reasoning from ascertained facts and truths. Yet 
imagination materially assists in the process. The inquir- 
ing, searching mind is always passing beyond the known 
to the unknown in the form of conjecturings. To guess a 
fact, whether it be a fact of the world around us or some- 
thing known to another, involves the bringing together of 
elements of previous knowledge, combining these in cer- 
tain ways, and so feeling our way by a series of tentatives 
to the particular combination required. The power of 
thus divining what is hidden by the activity of imagina- 
tion is variously known as insight into things and invent- 
iveness. The child shows the germ of this capability 
when picturing to himself the make of his toys, the mech- 
anism of the clock or the piano, the way in which plants 
nourish themselves and grow, and so on. The scientific 
discoverer shows it in a higher form in inventing hypoth- 
eses for the explanation of facts, and in imagining the as 
yet unobserved results of his reasoning processes. 

(B) Practical Contrivance. — A process of construc- 
tion enters into the several departments of practical ac- 
quisition, such as learning to use the voice in speaking 



AESTHETIC IMAGINATION. 



m 



and singing, manual contrivances and inventions, both 
useful and mechanical on the one hand, and artistic on 
the other hand. In these various exercises of practical skill 
and contrivance the child is called on to recall what has 
been already learned, and to separate and recombine this 
in conformity with new circumstances and new needs. A 
good deal of the child's mental energy finds its natural 
vent in the direction of practical contrivance or inven- 
tion. 

Much of this new motor acquisition is guided by 
others' actions. The impulse of imitation leads a child to 
attempt the actions which he sees others perform. This 
is seen plainly enough in his play, which is largely a 
mimicry of the serious actions of adults. This is the re- 
ceptive side of practical construction. The exercises of 
the school, such as singing, writing, the movements of 
drilling, and so forth, illustrate the same process. The 
simpler actions of the voice, fingers or limbs, which are al- 
ready mastered, are combined in more complex operations 
under the guidance of an external model or copy. 

From this lower and receptive form of practical con- 
trivance we must mark off that higher and more original 
form which we know as free invention. Children find 
out many new combinations of movement for themselves. 
The mere pleasure of doing a thing, and of overcoming a 
difficulty, is an ample reward for many an effort in practi- 
cal construction. Such activity is, moreover, closely con- 
nected with the impulse of curiosity, the desire to find 
out about things, their structure and less obvious qualities. 
In this way practical invention assists in the discovery of 
facts and truths. A considerable part of a boy's knowl- 
edge of things is thus gained experimentally, that is to say, 
by means of actively dividing, joining together, and other- 
wise manipulating objects. 

(C) ./Esthetic Imagination. — Esthetic or poetic 
imagination is distinguished from the other forms in being 



180 CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

subservient, not to the pursuit of knowledge, whether 
knowledge about things or knowledge how to attain re- 
sults, but to emotional gratification of some kind. It in- 
volves the presence of some feeling, such as love or admira- 
tion for the beautiful, and it is this feeling which consti- 
tutes its stimulus and controlling force. This is illustrated 
in the wild dreams of the romantic boy or girl. The pro- 
ductive work of imagination, by bringing enjoyment to 
the mind that indulges in it, strengthens the force of the 
stimulating emotion, and so tends to sustain and intensify 
itself. 

We have seen that imagination is able (within certain 
limits) to vary or transform the actual events of our ex- 
perience. Under the stimulus of an emotion, such as the 
love of the marvelous or the beautiful, imagination is wont 
to rise above the ordinary level of experience, and to pict- 
ure objects, circumstances, and events surpassing those 
of every-day life. The ideal creations of the imagination 
are thus apt to transcend the region of sober fact. The 
child's fairy-land and the world of romance, which the poet 
and the novelist create for us, are fairer, more wonderful 
and exciting than the domain of real experience. 

Risks of Uncontrolled Imagination. — The indul- 
gence in these pleasures of imagination is legitimate within 
certain bounds. But it is attended with dangers, moral 
and intellectual. A youth whose mind dwells long on the 
wonders of romance may grow discontented with his actual 
surroundings, and so morally unfit for the work and duties 
of life. Or, what comes to much the same, he learns to 
satisfy himself with these imaginative indulgences ; and 
so, by the habitual severance of feeling from will, grad- 
ually becomes incapable of deciding and acting, a result 
illustrated by the history of Coleridge and other " dream- 
ers." This constitutes a serious moral danger. 

Again, an unlimited indulgence in the pleasures of 
imagination is attended with grave intellectual dangers. 



INTELLECTUAL VALUE OF IMAGINATION. 181 

So far as imaginative activity is liberated from the control 
of will and judgment, and given over to the sway of emo- 
tion, it hinders the attainment of truth. In extreme cases 
it leads to such an exaggerated realization of the objects 
imagined as to give rise to delusion, as in the case of the 
dreamy child and the novel-reader. And, when it falls 
short of this, the sway of feeling gives such a violence and 
a capriciousness to the movements of imagination as to 
unfit it for the calm and steady pursuit of truth. Strong 
feeling prevents a clear discriminating vision of facts, and 
leads to vagueness and exaggeration. Thus, if a child is 
powerfully affected by the pathetic aspect of an historical 
incident, as the execution of Mary of Scotland, his mind, 
fascinated by this aspect of the event, will be unfitted to 
imagine fully and impartially all the essential circumstances 
of the case, so as to arrive at a complete grasp and under- 
standing of the whole. 

Intellectual Value of Imagination. — It has been 
customary to oppose the imagination to the understanding. 
To the ordinary practical intelligence the imagination 
seems a useless ornamental appendage to the mind, serv- 
ing, like the peacock's tail, only to retard its progress. 
And writers on the human mind have followed the popu- 
lar judgment in taking a low view of the intellectual serv- 
ices of this faculty. That there is a certain measure of 
truth is now apparent. Imagination, when given over to 
the caprices of feeling, is antagonistic to the pursuit of 
knowledge. At the same time, the view that imagination 
is uniformly opposed to intellect is erroneous, and has its 
roots in the more abstract psychology of an earlier age, 
according to which the mind is a bundle of disconnected 
faculties. A deeper insight into the organic unity of mind, 
and into the way in which different forms of mental activ- 
ity combine in what looks like a simple operation, shows us 
that imagination, instead of lying wholly outside of intel- 
lect, constitutes an integral factor in intellectual processes. 



1 82 CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

Development of Imagination. — Just as memory 
only begins to develop when the faculty of perception has 
been exercised up to a certain point, so imagination only 
distinctly appears when memory has attained a certain 
stage of perfection. This applies alike to construction as 
concerned with objects and with actions. The child must 
be able to recall distinctly a number of previous sense- 
experiences before he can build up new pictures of what 
is going to happen, or strike out new combinations of 
movement. 

Germ of Imagination. — In a sense the infant may 
be said to show the germ of imagination when letting his 
mind dwell on an absent object, as the mother who has 
just left the room, or when he anticipates some new ex- 
perience, as the taste of an untried fruit ; but it is not till 
language is mastered that the activity of the faculty be- 
comes well marked. It is in listening to the simple narra- 
tions and descriptions of the mother or nurse that the 
child's power of fashioning new images is first exercised. 
It is noteworthy that children only manifest interest in 
such narrations after they have been accustomed to a ver- 
bal recital of their own personal experiences.* The capa- 
bility of representing a new series of events depends on 
the exercise of the reproductive imagination in recalling 
old successions. But when this power of ready reproduc- 
tion has attained a certain strength, children display a 
keen interest in listening to new recitals. They show great 
liveliness and rapidity of fancy in following and realizing 
these narrations. As Madame Necker observes, "the 
pleasure which the narration of the most simple stories 
affords children is connected with the vivacity of the im- 
ages in their minds. The pictures which we call up within 
them are perhaps more brilliant and of richer coloring 

* M. Perez observes that a child of twenty months delights in re- 
counting his own little experiences, though he is not yet keen to hear 
stories. (" First Three Years of Childhood," p. 96.) 



THE FANCY OF CHILDREN. 183 

than the real objects would be." And this vividness of 
the mental imagery, and intensity of realization of what is 
narrated to them, is further shown in the jealous concern 
they display for fidelity to the original version when a 
story is repeated. 

Children's Fancy. — After a certain amount of ex- 
ercise of constructive power in this simple receptive form, 
the child shows a spontaneous disposition to build up 
fancies on his own account. The marvels which his new 
world presents to his mind, together with the delightful 
consciousness of possessing a new power, seem to be the 
chief forces at work here. At first this activity of fancy 
manifests itself in close connection with the perception of 
actual objects. This is illustrated in children's play. 
Play offers ample scope for practical ingenuity : it is the 
natural outcome of the active impulses of childhood, its 
love of doing things and of finding out new ways of doing 
them. But it owes its interest to another circumstance, 
namely, that it is a mimicry and kind of make-believe of 
the actions of adults. When at play the child realizes by 
an exercise of fancy the objects and actions which he is 
mimicking. The actual objects supply a basis of reality 
on which the imagination more easily constructs its fabric. 
By the " alchemy of imagination," as it has been called, 
the doll becomes in a manner transformed into a living 
child, the rude stick into a horse, and so on. A very 
rough basis of analogy will suffice for these creations of 
fancy : hence a boy will derive as much pleasure from a 
broken and shapeless hobby-horse as from the most life- 
like toy. Play thus illustrates in a striking manner the 
liveliness of children's fancy. In their spontaneous games 
they betray the germs of artistic imagination : they are in 
a sense at once poets and actors. 

This exuberance of imaginative activity shows itself 
commonly too in another form. A child of three or four 
years who has heard a number of stories will display great 



1 84 CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

activity in modeling new ones.* These fabrications show 
the influence of the child's own experience and observa- 
tion as well as of the narratives of others. At this period 
free spontaneous fancy is apt to assume extravagant 
shapes. A strong susceptibility to the excitement of the 
marvelous, and a childish love of what is odd and grotesque, 
often supply the impelling force in these constructions. 
Young children are wont to project themselves in fancy 
to distant regions of space, and to transform themselves 
into other objects. Thus, a child barely three years was 
accustomed to wish she might live in the water with the 
fishes, or be a beautiful star in the sky. The daring of 
these combinations is to a considerable extent accounted 
for by the child's ignorance of what is impossible and im- 
probable in reality. To the young mind to fly up into the 
sky is an idea which has nothing absurd about it. The 
riotous activity of children's fancy is thus due in part to 
the want of those checks which a fuller experience and a 
riper judgment necessarily impose. 

Imagination brought under Control. — The prog- 
ress of experience and the growth of knowledge lead to a 
moderation of childish fancy. From the first spontaneous 
form, in which it is free to follow every capricious impulse, 
it passes into the more regulated form, in which it is con- 
trolled by an enlightened will. That is to say, its activity 
becomes directed by the sense of what is true, life-like, 
and probable. This shows itself even in the matter of 
fiction. The old nursery tales cease to please. Stories 
bearing more resemblance to real life, histories of children, 
their doings and experiences, take their place. In this way 
the earlier impulses, the love of the marvelous, the liking 

* These fanciful creations are often built up on a slender basis of 
observation. Thus a little girl (5f years) once found a stone with a 
hole in it, and set to work to weave a pretty fairy-tale respecting it. 
To her fancy it became the wonderful stone, having inside it beautiful 
rooms, and lovely fairies who dance, sing, and live happily. 



LATER GROWTH OF IMAGINATION. 185 

for the grotesque and ridiculous, are replaced by higher 
motives, a desire to learn about things, and a regard for 
what is true to nature and life ; and this result is seen 
still more clearly in the gradual subjection of the imagina- 
tion to the ends of knowledge and truth. As youth pro- 
gresses, more and more of imaginative activity is absorbed 
in reading and learning about the facts of the real world. 

Later Growth of Imagination. — Although through 
the development of the powers of judgment and reasoning 
the child's wild fancy becomes curbed, it is a mistake to 
suppose that the imaginative powers cease to grow. We 
are apt to attribute to children a high degree of imagina- 
tiveness just because we are struck by the boldness of 
their conceits. But the same child that performs one of 
these "feats of imagination" would find it difficult to 
form a clear mental picture of an animal or a city that 
was described to him. The power of imaginative con- 
struction goes on developing, with the gradual enrichment 
of the memory, by the fruits of experience, as well as with 
the repeated exercise of the faculty. 

This higher development of the imaginative faculty 
means, first of all, increased facility in grouping elements 
of experience. A piece of imaginative work of the same 
degree of complexity comes to be executed in less time 
and with less effort. Thus the child of twelve follows a 
book of travel or an historical narrative with greater facility 
than one of six. Similarly, the advanced student of botany 
or zoology finds it easier to realize a description of a plant 
or animal than a tyro in the science. In the second place, 
this progress implies an increase in the difficulty of the 
operations which become possible. By more difficult 
operations must be understood either more complex com- 
binations, such as the visualizing of a large and intricate 
scene, say a battle ; or combinations more remote from 
our every-day experience, as the scenery and events of 
" Paradise Lost," or the life of primitive races. 



1 86 CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

Varieties of Imaginative Power. — Different per- 
sons differ in power of imagination no less markedly per- 
haps than in that of memory. These differences may be 
either general or special. One boy will display superior 
constructive ability generally. More commonly, excel- 
lence in imaginative capability shows itself in some special 
direction. Thus, we have a good imagination for visible 
objects, for musical combinations, for practical expedients, 
and so forth. And as a more circumscribed development 
we find a specially good power of imagining natural 
scenery, faces, or historical incidents. 

These differences plainly depend partly on native in- 
equalities and partly on differences in surroundings, the 
influence of companionship, and special exercise and train- 
ing. Children differ from the first in their formative 
power as a whole. Some minds are able to readily recast 
the various results of their experience, while others find it 
hard to break up the mental connections forged by ex- 
perience. Again, we commonly observe a special bent to 
one kind of imaginative activity, which is the outcome of 
a specially good sense, with its accompanying superior 
degree of retentiveness. In this way the born painter, 
with his fine eye and his good memory for color, would 
naturally find it easy to exercise his imagination on this 
material. Not only so, the emotional susceptibilities and 
the special interests of the individual have much to do 
with fixing the special line of development of the imagina- 
tion. A naturally strong liking for scientific observation 
and discovery leads a boy to exercise his imagination in 
relation to natural phenomena and their laws, whereas a 
deep feeling for the beautiful aspect of things would impel 
the imagination to follow the line of artistic or poetic com- 
bination. 

While in this way much of the difference, with respect 
both to the general and to the special development of 
imaginative power, is predetermined by natural aptitude 



IMAGINATIVE TRAINING. 187 

and inclination, the influence of surroundings and of edu- 
cation is a considerable one. Systematic training will 
never make a naturally unimaginative child quick to im- 
agine, but it may materially improve the power, and 
even raise it to a respectable height in some special direc- 
tion. 

Training of the Imagination. — The notion that 
the educator has a special work to do in exercising and 
guiding the imagination of the young is a comparatively 
new one. The common supposition of the inutility, not 
to say the mischievous nature, of the faculty touched on 
above naturally led to the idea that if the educator had 
anything to do with the imagination of his pupils, it was 
solely by way of repressing its activity. It is to be hoped, 
however, that a clearer apprehension of the scope of imag- 
inative activity, and the important part it plays in the 
operations of intellect, will turn teachers' attention more 
and more to the problem of helping to develop the faculty 
in a healthy and worthy form. 

As has been pointed out above, the imagination, in the 
unregulated form of fancy, is a precocious faculty. Chil- 
dren often show a liveliness, a rapidity, and a daring in 
their fancies which astonish their elders. This precocity 
of the imaginative faculty points to the need of an edu- 
cational discipline of it at an early stage of mental devel- 
opment. In truth, the work of training the imagination 
should begin and be carried to a certain stage in the 
child's home. 

Twofold Direction of Imaginative Training. — 
The peculiar position of imagination, in relation to the 
intellect on one side and to the feelings and character on 
the other, gives rise to educational problems of peculiar 
complexity. The teacher must keep in mind the several 
aspects and functions of this mental power, if he would 
assign it its proper place in a scheme of mental training. 
Speaking broadly, we may say that the discipline of the 



1 88 CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

imagination has a negative or prohibitory, and a positive 
or regulative side. 

(a) Restraining Fancy. — It follows, from what was 
said above respecting the intellectual and moral dangers 
of an excessive indulgence of the imagination, that the 
faculty may need to be curbed and restrained. The edu- 
cator must remember that, as Miss Edgeworth observes, 
imagination, like fire, "is a good servant, but a bad mas- 
ter." In the case of children the liveliness of their fancies, 
their ignorance and timidity, expose them to special risks 
from this source. The fact that children are apt to take 
all stories of fairy, giant, and so on as gospel imposes 
special obligations on the parent and teacher. Their 
minds may easily be overexcited by stories. Not only so, 
children are wont to believe in the reality of their dreams, 
and many a child has suffered much from haunting recol- 
lections of its nightmare fancies.* Every care must be 
taken to ward off and dispel dismal fancies. And, further, 
a too decided bent to imaginative indulgence, to building 
castles in the air, and to reverie, should be corrected by 
calling forth the faculties of the child's mind in grappling 
with real facts, and in attractive and useful kinds of ac- 
tivity. 

In thus repressing childish fancy, however, much dis- 
crimination and judgment is needed. Educators have 
been wont, perhaps, to overestimate the evils of children's 
nights of fancy. The imaginative creation of a glorious 
realm of fairy-land is natural and appropriate to childhood. 
It is the source of much pure delight, and the fond de- 
lusion tends, in ordinary cases, to disappear with so little 
suffering that its harmful effects become evanescent. It 
is only in special cases, where there is a specially lively 
fancy and a too tenacious hold on the imaginary world, 
with a corresponding want of interest in adjacent reali- 

* Beneke tells us that both Erhard and Kasper Hauser, when chil- 
dren, believed in the reality of their dreams. 



CULTIVATING THE IMAGINATION. 189 

ties, that a decided interference by the educator is called 
for. 

(b) Cultivating the Imagination. — While the edu- 
cator has thus to check and limit the activity of youthful 
fancy in certain directions, he has also an important 
function to discharge in aiding to develop the faculty. 
He should remember that the playful activity of the fancy 
at this early period is valuable as a preparation for the 
serious intellectual work of later years. Just as the in- 
fant's plump unformed hand, by its seemingly idle and 
purposeless manipulations of whatever comes within reach, 
is acquiring strength and precision of movement for the 
labors of after-life, so the imagination develops into a 
strong and flexible organ by what are apt to seem to older 
people foolish indulgences. The parent should not be 
too anxious to check even the vagaries of childish im- 
agination. To a large extent these may be left to correct 
themselves. So long as these sportive nights of fancy 
direct themselves to what is wonderful, beautiful, or 
merely grotesque, and steer clear of the sensational and 
horrible, they are not likely to do much mischief either to 
the intellect or to the character. 

But the parent should not leave the child's fancy alto- 
gether to follow its own wayward will, but should seek to 
aid in developing and guiding it into healthy channels of 
activity by supplying appropriate objects. The habitual 
narration of stories, description of places, and so on, is an 
essential ingredient in the early education of the home. 
The child that has been well drilled there in following 
stories and descriptions, will, other things being equal, be 
the better learner at school. Such exercises train the 
young mind in fixing the attention and in taming the 
fancy, compelling it to move within prescribed lines laid 
down by another. The early nurture of imagination by 
means of good wholesome food has had much to do 
with determining the degree of imaginative power, and, 



190 CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

through this, of the range of intellectual activity ulti- 
mately reached. 

In order to train the imagination wisely, we must at- 
tend to the natural laws of its operation. Thus it is ob- 
vious that the first constructive tasks imposed should be 
simple, and so adapted to the limited experiences of the 
child. The first condition of success in every attempt to 
call the child's imagination into play is to make sure that 
he has the necessary stock of experiences out of which 
the picture has to be constructed. Such experiences are 
needed not only to supply the elements or details of the 
mental picture, but also to provide analogies which may 
serve as a rough model for the composition. Thus, to 
take a simple example, a child will be aided to form a 
mental picture of a snow mountain not only by recalling 
the mountain form and the white snow, but also by re- 
ferring to some familiar object which shall serve as a pro- 
totype of the whole, say a loaf of sugar. 

The second main condition of success is to awaken a 
lively interest or motive. The materials provided for 
constructive activity, the scene described, or the action 
narrated, must be interesting and attractive to the child, as 
well as within his grasp. The child's feelings must be ap- 
pealed to by the pretty, amusing, pathetic, or noble aspect 
of the theme. It is only when the feelings are thus gently 
stirred that the imagination is lively. At the same time 
the emotional effect must not be allowed to become 
strong and violent, so as to interfere with distinctness of 
imagination and a full impartial grasp of all the elements 
of the description. This shows that in training the im- 
agination we need to study the emotional side of child- 
nature and its many individual varieties. 

Once more, the imagination, like every other faculty, 
must be called into play gradually. Not only should the 
conservative operation be adapted to the growing ex- 
perience of the child, and the natural order of unfolding 



CULTIVATING THE IMAGINATION. 191 

of his feelings, it must be suited to the degree of imagina- 
tive power already attained. Thus descriptions and nar- 
rations should increase in length and intricacy by gradual 
steps. The first exercises of the imagination should be by 
means of short, telling narrations of interesting incidents 
in animal and child life. Such stories deal in experiences 
which are thoroughly intelligible and interesting to the 
child. The best of the traditional stories, as that of 
Cinderella, are well fitted by their simplicity as well as by 
their romantic and adventurous character to please and 
engross the imagination. And fables in which the moral 
element is not made too prominent and depressing, and in 
which the child's characteristic feelings, e. g., his love of 
fun, are allowed a certain scope, will commonly be 
reckoned among his favorites. As the feeling of curiosity 
unfolds, and the imaginative faculty gains strength by ex- 
ercise, more elaborate and less exciting stories may be 
introduced. 

It is to be feared that a good deal of so-called chil- 
dren's literature offends by inattention to these obvious 
conditions of success. It is not needful to speak of the 
"nightmare " and strongly sensational stories which injure 
children's minds by disposing them to dwell in a morbid 
way on images of the terrible, and vitiate the taste by be- 
getting a craving for sensational excitement. For, though 
examples of such pernicious child's literature might be 
found in classical collections of fairy-tales, the judicious 
parent may be trusted to guard his children from injury in 
this direction. Nor need one refer to the patently didactic 
and "goody" stories which commonly weary children — 
when they succeed in engaging any measure of their at- 
tention at all. For these seem to be rapidly growing old- 
fashioned. It is more important to call attention to a be- 
setting fault in recent children's literature, viz., that of 
describing experiences, situations, impressions and feel- 
ings quite out of their mental reach. The writers of chil- 



192 



CONSTR UCTI VE I M AGIN A TION. 



dren's books but too rarely have the art of looking at the 
world with the eyes of a young person. It is no doubt 
true that children's literature has of late greatly improved 
in point of naturalness, brightness, picturesqueness, and 
other good qualities ; still, this vice of writing over chil- 
dren's heads is a serious drawback to its educational 
value. 

Exercise of the Imagination in Teaching. — The 
main proposition emphasized in this chapter is that the 
imagination is necessarily exercised in the work of in- 
structing the child in the knowledge of the realities which 
surround him. This is apparent in the beginnings of 
teaching. The intelligent parent who talks to the child 
about the wonders of nature, the formation of clouds and 
rain, the movements of the earth and the stars, the flow of 
sap in the plant, and the ways of animals, is continually 
calling forth the learner's imaginative powers. And all 
verbal instruction in the facts of human experience, the 
lives of the great and good, the habits of different races 
of mankind, the history of the nations, and so forth, opens 
up another wide and attractive arena for the exercise of 
the imagination. There is a special value in thus training 
the imagination in connection with the process of acquir- 
ing real knowledge. The necessity of grasping and under- 
standing realities disciplines the fleet-winged faculty to a 
certain sobriety of movement, and thus fits it to be the 
useful ally of the understanding. 

As we have seen, the imagination is called into activity 
in all branches of teaching. In some branches, as history 
and geography, it is more especially exercised. Here, 
then, a knowledge of the laws of operation of the faculty 
will be a matter of great importance to the teacher. 

Here, too, the first thing to attend to is to take care to 
call up the needed past impressions in a vivid and distinct 
form. This end will be secured to some extent by a wise 
selection of words. These must, so far as possible, be 



IMAGINATION IN TEACHING. 



193 



simple and homely, so that they may call up the images at 
once. More than this, the teacher should remind the 
child of facts in his experience, the recollection of which 
may contribute to the production of a distinct idea of the 
place, scene, or event. Thus, in describing an historical 
event, the several features must be made clear by parallel 
facts in the child's small world, and so the whole scene 
made distinct by the help of analogies. This requires a 
good deal of knowledge of child-life and much skill in 
searching out analogies. In thus utilizing the child's own 
experiences, however, the teacher must be careful to help 
the child to distinguish the new from the old, and not to 
import into the new image the accidental and irrelevant 
accessories of his experience. 

Once more, the teacher must seek to follow the natural 
order in exercising the imagination. He should remember 
that all knowledge proceeds from the vague and indefinite 
to the definite and exact, that clear ideas are formed by a 
gradual process of development. There is first a dim out- 
line, a blurred scheme, and this gradually grows distinct 
by additions of detailed features. Thus the description 
of a country best begins with a rough outline of its con- 
tour, its surroundings, and its larger features, as mountain- 
chains, etc. Similarly, historical narrative, say that of a 
particular reign in English history, best sets out with a 
recital of the leading events, which may serve as a rough 
scheme or outline of the whole, into which the details may 
be fitted. There is an orderly procedure in description 
which is needed by the imagination as much as by the 
understanding. A sudden plunge into details, and a dis- 
connected enumeration of these, are fatal to an orderly 
construction. 

Again, in successively unfolding the different parts of 

such a complex subject as the history or geography of a 

cruntry, that order should be followed which is most 

favorable to imaginative activity. Thus the progress 

9 



194 



CONSTR UCTI VE IMA GIN A TION. 



should be, so far as possible, from the known to the 
unknown. In geography, for example, the teacher, after 
a brief elementary account of the earth, starts with the 
child's own country and locality, and so passes gradually 
to more distant parts of the globe, where the natural 
features and the human life are strange, and therefore 
difficult to realize. Also, what is relatively simple and 
interesting should precede more complex and difficult 
matter. Thus, the first instruction in history should be 
quasi-biographical and a natural development of the early 
story, and the larger and more intricate study of the his- 
tory of peoples, of the growth of constitutions, and so 
forth, reserved for a later stage of development.* Simi- 
larly, in teaching geography, the human interest should at 
first be made prominent by connecting description with a 
narration of some real or imaginary journey, with its ad- 
ventures, dangers, etc. 

Finally, in all such teaching by way of verbal descrip- 
tion, the imagination of the learner should be assisted by 
a judicious use of actual sense-impressions. The im- 
portant aid rendered to the child's imagination by globes 
and models, and, in a less degree, by maps of countries, is 
recognized in modern systems of instruction. The ad- 
vantage derivable from these is due to the circumstance 
that the products of imagination are at best only a rough 
approximation, in respect of fullness and distinctness, to 
the actual perception of a thing. Moreover, description 
of places by means of language always has to encounter 
the obstacle that it can only present the parts of a locality 
or scene in succession, naming first one and then another ; 
whereas the imagination requires to bring these together 
in one simultaneous view. The model or map lifts the 
mind above this difficulty by presenting the parts together 

* In Mr. Fitch's valuable chapters on the teaching of geography and 
history (" Lectures on Teaching," chaps, xii and xiii) the reader may see 
a good illustration of the proper way to deal with the imaginative faculty. 



EXERCISE OF INVENTION. 195 

side by side as we should actually see the localities them- 
selves. Much the same applies to the aid rendered to the 
historical imagination by pictures and coins, and, better 
still, a visit to ancient buildings, like the Tower of Lon- 
don, museums of historical antiquities, etc. 

While the teaching of these comparatively concrete 
subjects always involves the activity of the imagination 
in some measure, the teacher of them may appeal to the 
faculty in very various degrees. There is a picturesque 
way of describing a country, and of narrating an incident 
in history, in which the chief aim of the instructor is to 
convey a lively picture of some scene or event. Here the 
wonderful, stirring, or touching aspects of the scene or 
event are emphasized ; and, further, much attention is 
given to detail, so that the mind may have a full pictorial 
representation of the concrete whole. On the other hand, 
the special object of the lesson may be to exercise the 
learner in grasping and understanding the facts presented 
in their relation one to another, and to other facts. This 
would demand a more rigorous control of the feelings, a 
less full and vivid imagination of the details, and a certain 
simplification, so that the more essential features and the 
determining conditions may be readily seized by the 
learner's mind. To know just how far to excite the 
pictorial imagination of the learner, according to the 
nature of the subject and the special objects of the lesson, 
is one of the secrets of a skilled instructor. 

Exercise of Invention. — As was pointed out above, 
the constructive process enters into many other mental 
operations besides those which we are accustomed to call 
the work of imagination. In finding out anything, in the 
practical application of knowledge in useful contrivance, 
and in artistic invention, the child is exercising his con- 
structive powers. And one important part of education 
concerns itself with the development of this faculty of in- 
ventiveness. 



196 CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

Taken in this wide sense, the faculty of invention, or 
ingenuity in device, may be exercised in every department 
of life and study. Thus, in making known to the child 
the facts of nature and life, he should be invited to use 
his powers of bringing together what he already knows, in 
order to find out for himself, so far as he is able, what he 
desires to know. One important reason for not telling a 
child everything is that, by compelling him to find out for 
himself, the educator exercises and strengthens the dis- 
covery or inventive faculty. The more intellectual class 
of games, too, may be turned to good account as an exer- 
cise of inventiveness. The task of tracking the mental 
path through a labyrinth of suggestions to some particular 
idea of a person or thing by help of successive clews 
(as in the old-fashioned game of " How ? When ? and 
Where ? ") is a valuable exercise of the child's mind in 
those very processes of searching out the new by the light 
of the old, by which great scientific discoveries are made. 

Mechanical contrivance and practical inventiveness in 
general are further developed to a certain extent by the 
spontaneous and playful activity of children. The edu- 
cator must be careful not to interfere too much with the 
perfectly free and sportive character of the activity, for 
by so doing he would rob it of much of its charm and of 
its value. The full exercise of invention presupposes that 
the child is free to choose his own designs and plans. 
The domain of play must be respected, and only a general 
supervision of these self-prompted activities maintained. 
In the choice of toys it is important to select those which 
offer the greatest scope for contrivance. A toy is not 
something to look at and observe merely, but it must 
admit of being played with or done something with ; and 
the more possibilities of various constructive activity a 
toy offers, the better it is as a toy. Jean Paul Richter 
says that the best toy of all is a heap of sand, along with 
which a box of bricks may be taken. As the child grows 



EXERCISE OF INVENTION. 197 

older his mechanical constructiveness should be called 
forth by useful occupations, such as gardening, carpenter- 
ing, and so forth.* 

The faculty of inventiveness should be encouraged to 
exercise itself in other directions too. The artistic and 
dramatic impulses should be utilized as motives to inven- 
tion. A valuable part of the intellectual culture of the 
home is the directing of children's activities into such 
useful and refining exercises as planning out the garden- 
plot, adorning the room, inventing little dramatic specta- 
cles, and so forth. A game like acting charades is an ex- 
cellent means of calling into play the children's readiness 
and fertility in invention, that most useful capability of 
laying under contribution the store of acquisitions so as 
to arrive at some new result or produce some new effect. 

The training of manual and artistic constructiveness is 
one of the chief objects aimed at in the Kindergarten 
exercises already spoken of. It must, however, be re- 
membered that the directly controlled activity of the 
Kindergarten does not afford quite the same scope for 
development of individual inventiveness as play properly 
so called. Here all have to construct according to a 
definite external model. Such exercises serve the useful 
purpose of training the hand in dexterity, in combining 
movements, and developing the taste by presenting good 
models. In addition to this good result, ingenuity is 
called forth in a measure in discovering the proper way to 
reproduce the pattern. Not only so, all such imitative 
work may be made a means of ultimately developing the in- 
ventive faculty in the production of original design. The 
models supplied by the teacher give the child a standard 
by the aid of which he is the better fitted to strike out 
new plans. And this effect of the manual exercises of the 

* The training of mechanical ingenuity by various manual employ- 
ments is well illustrated by Miss Edgeworth. (" Practical Education," 
chap, i, p. 33, and following.) 



198 CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. 

school should be secured by the co-operation of the 
parent at home in encouraging the child to turn his 
attainments to fresh uses. 

APPENDIX. 

On the cultivation of the imagination the reader may consult Miss 
Edgeworth, "Practical Education," chap, xxi (on Invention) and chap, 
xxii ; Mdme. Necker, " L'Education," livre iii, chap, v, and livre 
vi, chaps, viii and ix ; Beneke, op. cit., sects. 23, 24 ; Waitz, op. cit., 
sec. 10 ("Vom Spiele"); Pfisterer, " Paedagogische Psychologie," 
sec. 14. 



CHAPTER XII. 

ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. 

Apprehension and Comprehension. — The intel- 
lectual operations hitherto considered have had to do with 
individual things. To perceive, remember, and imagine 
have reference to some particular object, as the river 
Thames, or a particular occurrence, as the opening of the 
new law-courts. But we may reflect and reason about 
rivers or ceremonies in general. When we do so we are 
said to think. In thinking we are concerned not with sin- 
gle objects with all their individual peculiarities, e. g., this 
oak-tree, with its particular size, twisted shape, etc., but 
with certain qualities of these objects common to these 
and many others, e. g., the general characters of oaks or 
of trees. In other words, when we think our minds are 
occupied about the qualities of things, their relations one 
to another, and the general classes into which they natu- 
rally fall. 

Thinking is closely related to understanding, and in- 
deed the two words are often used to mark off the same 
region of intellectual operation. When we view an object 
as a concrete whole, we apprehend it ; when, however, we 
regard it under some aspect common to it and other 
things, we comprehend it. Thus the child apprehends this 
particular building, that is to say as an individual thing 
distinct from surrounding things, having a particular shape, 
size, etc. ; he comprehends it when he recognizes it as one 



200 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. 

of a class of things, as buildings or products of human 
labor. To understand things is thus to assimilate them 
to, or to class them with, other things. 

Stages of Thinking". — It is common to distinguish 
three stages of thinking. First of all, there is the forma- 
tion of general ideas, general notions, or concepts, which 
may be said to constitute the elements of thought, such 
as " material body," " weight." This is called conception. 
Next to this comes the combining of two concepts in 
the form of a statement or proposition, as when we say 
"material bodies have weight." This is termed an act of 
judging. Lastly, we have the operation by which the mind 
passes from certain judgments (or statements) to certain 
other judgments, as when from the assertions "material 
substances have weight," " gases are material substances," 
we proceed to the further assertion " gases have weight." 
This process is described as reasoning, or drawing an in- 
ference or conclusion. 

The General Notion or Concept. — A general idea 
or concept is the idea in our minds answering to a general 
name, as soldier, man, animal. When we use these terms 
we do not form complete pictures of individuals with their 
several peculiarities. Thus the term soldier does not call 
up the full impression of some one individual that we hap- 
pen to know, with his proper height, style of uniform, etc. 
Still less when we use the name animal are we distinctly 
imagining some particular individual, as our dog Carlo or 
the elephant Jumbo. The general idea or* notion is thus 
not a pictorial representation of a concrete thing, but 
a general abstract representation of those qualities which 
are common to a number of things. 

At the same time, it is obvious that there is a close 
connection between a concept and the corresponding 
image. If, for example, we had never seen or heard a 
description of individual soldiers, we could not form the 
general idea, or think of the class, soldier. More than 



HOW CONCEPTS ARE FORMED. 20 1 

this, if we could not at the moment of using a general name 
recall particular examples with some degree of distinctness, 
the name would be devoid of meaning for us. In thinking 
of any general class, as a plant, our minds are represent- 
ing individuals, only in a comprehensive and abstract way. 
That is to say, we have the power of putting out of sight 
for the moment their individual peculiarities, and of fixing 
the attention on their common or general qualities. Thus, 
in thinking of " tree," we indistinctly recall the elm, oak, 
and so on ; but what we specially bring into view is the 
common features of trees, arrangement of branches on a 
trunk, and leaves on the branches, etc. 

How Concepts are formed. — From this slight ac- 
count of the concept, we may see that it is fashioned out 
of percepts and images. It is the result of a process of 
elaboration carried out on the impressions supplied by 
concrete individual things. 

In the case of the less general or abstract notions, such 
as gold, dog, oak-tree, this growth of general ideas is a 
comparatively passive process of assimilating the like to 
the like. A child forms an idea of horse, house, and so on, 
with very little mental effort. In the case of the more 
abstract notions, however, as metal, animal, or plant, there 
is involved a special activity of mind. It brings into ex- 
ercise what is commonly called the faculty of abstraction. 
Hence the process of conception in this higher form is one 
of the later intellectual operations. 

This operation of elaborating concrete impressions 
into concepts is commonly said to fall into three stages : 
(1) comparison, or comparing individuals one with an- 
other; (2) abstraction, or withdrawing the mind from in- 
dividual differences and fixing it on common qualities; 
and (3) generalization, or the formation of the idea of a 
general class on the ground of these common qualities. 

(A) Comparison. — By an act of comparison is meant 
the voluntary direction of attention to two or more objects 



202 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. 

at the same moment, or in immediate succession, with a 
view to discover their differences or their agreements. 
The objects may be both present together, and placed in 
juxtaposition, as when a teacher compares the handwriting 
of a child with the copy ; or, as often happens, may be 
(either wholly or in part) represented, as when we recall a 
person's face in order to compare it with another which 
we are now observing. 

As we saw above, a child in perceiving an object dis- 
criminates and assimilates. Thus, in recognizing a figure, 
as that of his father, he marks off the object in respect of 
height, etc., from other objects. In like manner, when he 
recognizes an object, as an orange, he assimilates it to 
other and previously seen objects. Yet here the differ- 
ences and similarities are only implicitly seized, and not 
rendered explicit. The child does not distinctly recall 
other figures from which that of his father differs, nor does 
he distinctly recall other oranges which the present one 
resembles. 

The explicit setting forth of differences and similarities 
takes place by means of comparison. In this we place the 
objects differing or agreeing in mental juxtaposition, so as 
to distinctly view them as related by way of similarity or 
dissimilarity. This act of comparison marks a certain 
development of intellectual power. An infant can distin- 
guish and recognize a person, say its mother, but it can 
not compare one person with another. 

This act of comparing two objects illustrates the high- 
est kind of exercise of the power of voluntary concentra- 
tion. The attention has to pass rapidly from one to the 
other, and grasp them together, so that their relation of 
dissimilarity or similarity may become apparent and well- 
defined. 

Conditions of Comparison. — It is obvious that the 
act of comparison may be furthered by certain favorable 
conditions. Thus it is in general a distinct advantage to 



CONDITIONS OF COMPARISON. 203 

have the objects compared actually present to the senses. 
A child can compare two things, as brass and gold, or a 
butterfly and a moth, much better when he sees them both 
at the same time than when he has to recall what he has 
seen. Where it is necessary to compare something present 
with something absent, it is desirable to make the image 
of the latter as distinct as possible. 

Again, it is very important to bring the objects into 
juxtaposition. Thus, in trying to see whether, and in what 
respects, the brass differs from the gold, the child should 
have them close together before his eyes. Or, if the ob- 
jects compared are in their nature fleeting, as musical 
sounds, it is necessary to make them follow one another 
immediately. 

Besides these external aids to comparison, there are 
certain internal conditions. The mind must be calm and 
free from all preoccupation, and must have the vigor and 
energy necessary to such a severe effort of attention. We 
may compare two things either on the side of their simi- 
larity or on that of their difference. Thus a child may 
fix his attention on the similarity in size between the moth 
and the butterfly, or on. the difference between them. 
Which of the two shall specially engage his attention will 
depend on certain circumstances. Where two things are 
very unlike, and the resemblance between them relatively 
small and unimpressive, as the two metals gold and quick- 
silver, it is proportionately difficult to detect the latter. 
Again, some persons have a special aptitude and readi- 
ness in seeing similarities, others in seeing differences. 
And, lastly, a person may come specially prepared to see 
either likeness or unlikeness. Thus, if a child is asked 
how two objects resemble one another, he naturally looks 
out for the similarity between them. 

We may now pass to the special form of comparison 
necessary to conception. Here, it is evident, the mind is 
on the lookout for likeness. In extricating the common 



204 



ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. 



qualities of iron, lead, and other metals, we are seeking to 
trace out or detect the similarities of things. 

The conditions here are a number of objects brought 
together before the mind, either directly by way of the 
senses, or indirectly by means of the reproductive imagi- 
nation. The objects being thus present, the mind is 
called upon to pass its attention from one to the other, 
with a view to detect the features or qualities which are 
manifested by all alike. 

(B) Abstraction. — The next stage of the process of 
conception, which is closely connected with the first, is 
known as abstraction. This means the withdrawing of 
the attention from certain things, in order to fix it on 
others. It is thus a peculiar exercise of the analytic and 
selective function of attention. Thus a child that fixes 
its eye specially and exclusively on some feature of an 
object, as the brightness of a candle-flame, or the size of a 
large apple, is in a manner abstracting.* In its higher 
meaning, however, abstraction always involves the turning 
away of the mind by an exercise of will from what is at- 
tracting it at the moment. Thus the diligent student is 
displaying the power when he resolutely withdraws his 
thoughts from the sights and sounds of his surroundings 
and fixes them on some subject of internal reflection. 

The way in which abstraction enters into conception 
is in the turning away the attention from the individual 
differences of the things compared. These are on the 
surface and striking, and so apt to engage the attention. 
Thus a child finds it hard to fix his attention on the com- 
mon aspects of tin, lead, brass, etc., because of their im- 
pressive differences of brightness and color. Similarly, he 
finds it difficult to direct his mental eye to the common 
property in a variety of tools, as a gimlet, saw, hammer, 
etc. To resist the attractions of the individual diversities, 
and resolutely turn the attention in the direction of the 
* See Perez, " First Three Years of Childhood," p. 189. 



CONCEPTION AND NAMING. 205 

less potent aspect of their similarity, involves a severe 
effort of will. It is a manifestation of the highest power 
of voluntarily concentrating the attention in any direction 
desired. 

(C) Generalization. — The third and final stage of 
the process of conception is generalization, or the forma- 
tion of a class of objects. By discovering, for example, 
that lead, iron, gold, and so on, have certain properties in 
common, the child mentally places them together in a class, 
viz., metals. 

In so doing, the child is generalizing. The class is in 
its nature general. It is not limited to the several objects 
examined, which are only particular specimens of the class. 
Nor in forming the class does the mind bring together and 
distinctly realize a definite number of things in a collec- 
tion, as a class of children in a school. In creating a class, 
metal, the little discoverer need have no knowledge as to 
the number of things to be included in it. He has simply 
invented a new compartment, into which he is prepared to 
put whatever is found to have the necessary qualities. 

Conception and Naming. — This process of forming 
concepts is completed by the act of naming the things 
classed. A name is a general sign or symbol which can 
stand for any one of an indefinite number of things. With- 
out the aid of such a sign the mind could not arrange 
things in classes. We could form no idea of man or ani- 
mal in general if we had not a common name to give the 
things. 

The name has a twofold function and use in connec- 
tion with abstraction and generalization : (1) It helps the 
mind to clearly mark off, define, and indicate the qualities 
that have been discovered by means of abstraction. Thus, 
by calling iron, lead, etc., " metal," we clearly separate 
out the common qualities and fix them in the mind for 
further use. (2) The name is the bond by which the mind 
ties together the several members of the class. In invent- 



206 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. 

ing the name we are providing ourselves with a general 
mark by which we can afterward recognize an object as a 
member of a particular class. 

This double use of the name corresponds to the two 
functions which logicians attribute to names. These are 
known as (a) the denotation or extension of a term, and 
{b) its connotation or intension. The denotation refers to 
the things included in the class, and to which the name 
can be applied, as this, that, and the other piece of iron, 
lead, brass, etc. The connotation refers to the qualities 
signified by the name, and the possession of which is neces- 
sary to admission to the class or compartment, as hard- 
ness, metallic luster, etc. 

From this account of the concept we can see what are 
its chief uses: (i) It helps us to retain our knowledge 
better, by allowing us to bring together many detached 
observations. Thus the child who has formed the notion 
of a class, metal, will thereby have gathered up into one 
comprehensive whole a number of separate and scattered 
percepts. (2) It is necessary to the orderly arrangement 
of our observations. By classing things we reduce their 
perplexing diversities to unity, and their intricate confusion 
to order. By the aid of our concepts we refer each object 
as it presents itself to its proper mental compartment, and 
so master and comprehend it. (3) It prepares the way for 
finding out the general laws that govern things, and so for 
explaining what we see. 

In order that these ends be realized, it is necessary to 
connect our general notions with particulars, and our 
names with the things for which they stand. The concept 
is a name which stands for certain qualities in real objects, 
and which we are prepared to apply to any one of these 
when it presents itself. It ceases to have any meaning and 
value when the name is divorced from the things which it 
is intended to represent. 

Discovering the Meaning of Words. — In this ac- 



MARKING OFF SINGLE QUALITIES. 207 

count of the formation of concepts we have supposed that 
the child brings objects together and compares them on 
his own account without any guidance from others. And 
this supposition answers to what actually takes place in 
certain cases. Children discover resemblances among 
things, and call them by the same name quite spontane- 
ously and without any suggestion from others. At the 
same time, it is obvious that the greater part of their gen- 
eral ideas are formed (in part at least) by listening to 
others and noting the way in which they employ words. 
The process is in this case essentially the same as before. 
A child finds out the meaning of a word, such as " animal," 
" gentleman," and so forth, by comparing the different in- 
stances in which it is used, abstracting from the variable 
accompaniments, and fixing the attention on the common 
or essential circumstance. 

Degrees of Abstraction. — Our less abstract con- 
cepts involve, as we have seen, but little active compari- 
son. In arriving at the ideas of cat, house, and so on, the 
child finds no difficulty in turning away from differences. 
Resemblance here preponderates over difference, and the 
exercise of the power of abstraction is slight. It is only 
when he is called on to carry the process of abstraction 
further, and seek out more widely extended points of simi- 
larity, that a serious effort is required. Thus, in finding 
out what is common among dogs, horses, and other ani- 
mals, houses, churches, and other buildings, the child needs 
to concentrate his mind closely, and turn away from many 
and striking differences. Speaking roughly, we may say 
that the wider the range of objects compared the smaller 
will be the amount of resemblance among them. And the 
more dissimilarity thus preponderates over similarity the 
greater will be the effort of abstraction required. 

Marking off Single Qualities. — A higher exercise 
of abstraction is seen in the singling out for special con- 
sideration of some one of the common qualities of objects, 



208 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. 

as when we view a cannon-ball as round, heavy, and so 
forth. This stage of abstraction is represented by the use 
of adjectives or qualifying terms, supplemented by what 
logicians call abstract names, as weight, figure, etc. Here 
the process of breaking up or analyzing complex percepts 
is carried to a still further point. By inspecting and com- 
paring things in this more abstract way our knowledge 
gains in exactness. Thus the child that can separately 
attend to the several qualities of water, as its fluidity, 
transparency, etc., has reduced his knowledge of the sub- 
stance to a more distinct and precise form. 

Varieties of Concepts. — The general ideas that we 
form are as various as the things we observe and the quali- 
ties they exhibit. Material objects present a number of 
distinct aspects or points of view, each of which may be- 
come the basis of a generalization. Thus we may bring 
together chairs, tables, and so on, under the head of furni- 
ture ; or, looking at their material substance merely, we 
may class them as wooden things. An orange may be put 
into as many classes as it has qualities, as a round or 
spherical body, a colored body, a vegetable product, and 
so forth. Again, things may be classed in their bearing 
on our welfare, as useful or beneficial, and according to 
their beauty or picturesqueness. 

In addition to material things, there are their several 
movements, as falling, rolling, hopping, etc.; their actions 
one on another, such as striking, bruising, breaking ; the 
changes that bodies undergo, as expansion, contraction, 
growth, decay ; and, further, the sequences of natural 
events, such as morning and noon, spring and summer. 
All these changes and occurrences present certain resem- 
blances in the midst of differences, and our notions of 
them are reached by a process of abstraction. 

Notions which involve Synthesis. — Many of our 
notions involve, in addition to the process of abstraction 
and analysis just illustrated, a process of putting together 



IDEAS OF MAGNITUDE AND NUMBER. 



209 



the results of abstraction in new combinations, or what is 
known as synthesis. This is illustrated in school studies, 
as history, in which the learner has to build up out of the 
results of observation and abstraction such notions as 
"Roman emperor," "feudal system," etc. 

In many instances this process of synthesis is based on 
an operation of constructive imagination. By this the 
mind fashions a concrete image, which gives the peculiar 
form or structure to the concept. In this way a boy would 
build up an idea of a Roman consul, of a volcano, and so 
forth. In other cases, however, this basis of constructive 
imagination is wanting. Conception passes beyond the 
limits of distinct visual representation. 

(A) Ideas of Magnitude and Number. — This pro- 
cess of transcending the limits of imagination is illustrated 
in the formation of ideas of all objects of great magnitude. 
Our notion of city, planet, or nation, the distance from 
the earth to the sun, and so forth, does not correspond to 
any object that we can distinctly see and picture. Such 
ideas are the vaguely realized results of a process of add- 
ing together or multiplying smaller and perceptible magni- 
tudes, as a house, a ball, a crowd, a small distance. 

This process is most clearly illustrated in the building 
up of the ideas of all the larger numbers. In the case of 
small numbers, as 3, 4, 5, we can distinctly perceive a dif- 
ference in the aggregate of objects by the senses. A group 
of 3 objects looks different from one of 4. Hence, the first 
exercises in counting set out with concrete visible groups. 
Even in the case of these smaller numbers, however, a 
process of composition and decomposition (synthesis and 
analysis) is necessarily involved. A child only fully ap- 
prehends what 5 things are when he has taken the group 
apart, and can produce it by adding unit to unit. In the 
case of the larger numbers, such as 20, 50, 100, etc., this 
process of adding or summing makes up the whole meaning 
of the number. The numeral 100 does not correspond to 



2io ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. 

a visual percept or an image. It stands as a symbol for 
the result of a process of summing or counting performed 
on units (or small groups of these) which are themselves 
sensible objects, and so picturable. 

(B) Notions of Geometry, etc. — This synthetic 
activity is illustrated in a somewhat different way in the 
formation of the notions of geometry. Our idea of a 
mathematical line, a circle, and so forth, does not exactly 
answer to any observable form. No straight line, for in- 
stance, discoverable in any actual object, perfectly answers 
to the geometric definition. Even the most carefully 
drawn line would be found, on closer inspection, to devi- 
ate to some extent from the required type. It follows that 
these notions involve more than a simple process of ab- 
straction, such as suffices, for example, for the detection 
of the quality color, or weight. They presuppose, in ad- 
dition to this, a process of idealization. The student of 
geometry, in thinking about a perfectly straight line, has 
to frame a conception of an ideal limit, to which actual 
forms only roughly approximate. The notion thus repre- 
sents, like that of a large number, the result of a prolonged 
mental process which surpasses the limits of distinct im- 
agination. Hence, the peculiar difficulty which many a 
beginner at the science experiences in attaching any reality 
and meaning to these forms ; and hence, too, the peculiar 
poetic charm of the science to many. 

It is much the same with the notions smooth plane, 
perfect fluid, rigid body, etc., in physics. In framing these 
notions the student is called on to modify, perfect, or ideal- 
ize the results of abstraction, to form ideal notions which 
transcend the limits of distinct imagination, and yet which 
are definite enough for the purposes of scientific reason- 
ing. This constitutes one of the main difficulties of the 
science. 

The distinction between notions answering to pictures 
and those which can not be reduced to images is related 



MORAL IDEAS: IDEA OF SELF. 21 1 

to the distinction drawn by logicians between symbolic 
and intuitive knowledge. We are said to have an intuitive 
knowledge of the number 3, or of the figure triangle, be- 
cause we can picture them. But we have only a sym- 
bolic knowledge of the number 1,000, or of the figure 
chiliagon (one of a thousand sides). Leibnitz, who empha- 
sized this difference, adds that intuitive knowledge is more 
perfect than symbolic. This illustrates the importance of 
the function of imagination in relation to thought. 

Moral Ideas : Idea of Self. — By a process of ab- 
straction similar to that whereby the child learns to group 
external objects according to their resemblances, he comes 
to a knowledge of the inner and moral world, his own 
mind and character. His idea of self begins with the 
perception of his own organism, as the object in which he 
localizes his various feelings of pleasure and pain. Even 
this partial idea is slowly acquired. As Prof. Preyer points 
out, the infant does not at first know his own organism as 
something related to his feelings of pleasure and pain. 
When more than a year old his boy bit his own arm just 
as though it had been a foreign object.* This crude and 
material form of self-consciousness seems to correspond to 
the early period of life, in which the .child speaks of him- 
self by his proper name. 

As the power of abstraction grows, this idea of self be- 
comes fuller, and includes the representation of internal 
mental states. The child does not at first reflect or turn 
his attention inward on his own feelings. He is glad or 
sorrowful, but as soon as the momentary feeling is over he 
is apt to forget all about it. His attention is absorbed in 
outward things. To attend to the facts of the inner life 
implies an effort, an active withdrawal of. the mind from 
the outer world. This only occurs later on, and first of 
all in connection with the development of certain feelings, 
as love of approbation, pride in displaying his prowess, etc. 
* " Die Seele des Kindes," p. 360. 



212 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. 

The influence of others is an important factor in the 
growth of this fuller idea of self. More particularly its 
development would be promoted by the experience of 
moral discipline and the reception of blame or praise. It 
is when the child's attention is driven inward, in an act of 
reflection on his own actions as springing from good or 
bad motives, that he wakes up to a fuller consciousness of 
self. The gradual substitution for the proper name of 
"me," "I," "my," which is observable in the third year, 
probably marks the date of a more distinct reflection on 
internal feelings, and consequently of a clearer idea of 
self as a conscious moral being. 

A further process of abstraction is implied in arriving 
at the idea of a permanent self, now the recipient of im- 
pressions from without, now the subject of feelings of 
pleasure and pain, hopes and fears, and now the cause of 
outward actions. The image of the enduring and always 
present object, the bodily self, undoubtedly contributes 
an important element to this idea. But this supplies only 
the more concrete or pictorial part of the representation. 
The assurance of an enduring mental self, one and the 
same through all the changes of feeling, involves a certain 
development of the child's memory, and the power of real- 
izing that he has had a past and a continuous history. 

The highest outcome of this process of abstract reflec- 
tion is the knowledge of self as having definite capabili- 
ties, intellectual and moral. Such an abstract idea of self 
presupposes many comparisons of states of mind, feelings, 
actions, etc. Thus a child builds up his idea of himself 
as susceptible to pain, as able to understand, to obey, etc., 
by bringing together many of his past experiences, and 
seeing what is common to these. 

Notions of Others. — In close connection with this 
development of self-knowledge there grows up the knowl- 
edge of other conscious beings. It is probable that the 
child is instinctively disposed to endow with conscious- 



CONCEPTION AND DISCRIMINATION. 



213 



ness any external object which resembles himself in any- 
way, and more particularly in the power of self-movement. 
But this personification of things is checked by the growth 
of knowledge and discriminative power. The child learns 
now to distinguish between inanimate and animate objects, 
and between the several grades of the latter. When this 
stage is reached, he is in a position to form more accurate 
ideas respecting other human beings. 

The knowledge of self and of others reacts one on the 
other. The child is only able to think of others, e. g., his 
mother or brother, as conscious beings, by endowing them 
with feelings analogous to what he has observed in himself. 
On the other hand, the observation of others materially aids 
in the development of a fuller and more accurate knowl- 
edge of self. Thus, by seeing what another child can do 
by trying, he learns more of his own powers ; by witness- 
ing new forms of suffering, he imaginatively realizes more 
of his own capacity to suffer, and so forth. 

By comparing different actions of the same person 
and actions of different persons, the child learns to group 
them in classes, as kind, wise, good people ; and in this 
way his ideas of others grow more distinct. By a higher 
exercise of the power of abstraction he is now able to 
mentally place each individual of his acquaintance in some 
definite compartment or category, according to the particu- 
lar qualities which he displays. 

Conception and Discrimination. — The formation of 
concepts involves, as its main factor, the function of as- 
similation in its higher form of detecting resemblances in 
the midst of differences. At the same time, the other 
great intellectual function, discrimination, is also exercised 
in the process. In classing things, the mind always refers 
more or less explicitly to differences. In forming the con- 
cept animal, for example, we are not only connecting many 
unlike things on the ground of their resemblances (animal 
structure and functions), but are marking these off from 



214 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. 

other things lacking these points of similarity (plants and 
inanimate objects). When we think of European we are 
tacitly referring to non-Europeans (Asiatics, etc.). Indeed, 
we can not constitute a class by the presence of certain 
marks without at the same time drawing a line about it or 
limiting it, and so implicitly distinguishing it from other 
things wanting these marks. In all cases where there are 
well-marked contraries or opposites, as heavy — light, sweet 
— bitter, good — bad, and so on, this process of discrimina- 
tion becomes more explicit. To bring an object under 
the class of light bodies is to set it over against the class of 
heavy ones. 

Classification. — The orderly, systematic review of the 
agreements and the differences among things leads to what 
is called classification. To classify things is to view them 
in such a way that their different degrees of resemblance 
and difference may be clearly exhibited. This takes 
place by proceeding through a series of gradations from 
notions of a low degree of generality to those of a higher 
degree. Thus, supposing we have the concepts "plow," 
"spade," and so forth, we may group them under a more 
general head, " agricultural implements." With these we 
may take other things, such as carpenters' " tools," " sur- 
gical instruments," "machines," etc., and bring them 
under a still more general head, " instruments of labor." 
Any lower class is called, in relation to the higher class 
under which it is brought, a species ; and the higher class 
is called, in relation to the lower, a genus. In each step of 
this process we are co-ordinating, or placing side by side, 
certain lower classes or species, marked off from one an- 
other by particular qualities (e. g., surgical and agricult- 
ural use), and subordinating them under a larger class or 
genus. 

In this upward movement of thought from smaller to 
larger classes, or species to genera, we continually discard 
differences (e. g., surgical, agricultural use) and bring into 



CLASSIFICA TION. 



215 



view a wider similarity (e. g., quality of being an aid to 
labor of some sort). But we may set out with a large 
class, and by a downward movement break it up into 
successively smaller classes. For instance, given the class 
plane figure, we may break it up into rectilinear and cur- 
vilinear ; each of these classes, again, may be further 
broken up into sub-varieties. Thus the rectilinear figures 
may be separated into three-sided figures, four-sided, and 
so on. This downward movement from the general to 
the particular is known as division. It proceeds not by 
a gradual elimination of differences, but by a gradual ad- 
dition of them by a process of qualification, or what is 
called by logicians " determination." Thus the notion 
figure is further determined by the addition of the qualifi- 
cation rectilinear ; this again by the addition of three- 
sided, and so on. In this way the differences among 
things, as well as their resemblances, are clearly brought 
into view. 

The most elaborate examples of this orderly arrange- 
ment of things is seen in the classifications of natural his- 
tory, mineralogy, zoology, and botany. But any general 
notion may thus be connected with other cognate or allied 
notions, and so the germ of a classification obtained. In 
this way we bring together the classes house, church, etc., 
under the genus building ; or, to illustrate the reverse 
process, we divide the class book into sub-classes accord- 
ing to its purpose (amusing, instructive) or size (octavo, 
etc.). Even the notions corresponding to abstract names 
admit of this orderly treatment. For example, we can 
classify the several sorts of color, movement, human 
action, virtue, and so forth. By thus arranging things in 
a systematic way, and so bringing into light their simi- 
larities and their differences, we prepare the way for a 
systematic inquiry into their unknown properties and the 
laws that govern them. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION {continued). 

In the preceding chapter we examined into the nature 
of the process of abstraction and its results in what is 
known as the concept. In the present chapter we shall 
consider the natural defects of our notions, and the best 
way to correct them. 

Imperfection and Perfection of Notions. — Our 
every-day notions are apt to be defective in a number of 
ways. It is easier for the mind to become indistinct in its 
notions than in its percepts or its images. This special 
liability of concepts to grow indistinct is connected with 
the very nature of the conceptual process, and with 
the fact that its results are embodied in language. It is 
possible to use words for every-day purposes with only a 
very rough notion of their purport. Many of the opera- 
tions of reasoning can be carried on with only a moment- 
ary glance at the meaning of the terms employed. Hence 
the wide opening for vague concepts. 

Distinctness of Concepts. — By a distinct, clear, or 
well-defined concept is meant one in which the several 
features or characters of the objects thought about are 
distinctly represented. Thus a boy has a distinct idea of 
coal when he clearly distinguishes and grasps together as 
a whole its several qualities, as its black color, its frangi- 
bility, combustibility, etc. On the other hand, an idea is 
indistinct, hazy, or ill-defined when the constituent quali- 
ties of the objects are not thus distinctly represented. 



INDISTINCTNESS OF CONCEPTS. 



217 



Closely connected with the distinctness of a concept, 
as just defined, is its distinctness with respect to other con- 
cepts. By this is meant that the idea is carefully distin- 
guished from other and partially similar concepts. Thus 
we have a distinct idea of a nut when we distinguish the 
group of characters constituting it from those of an ordi- 
nary fruit ; of a planet, when we distinguish the characters 
from those of a fixed star, etc. On the other hand, a con- 
cept is indistinct when it is apt to be confused with a kin- 
dred concept. Thus a boy studying history has confused 
notions when he does not discriminate an aggressive from 
a defensive war, a limited from an absolute monarchy, and 
so forth. 

We can best test the distinctness of a concept by our 
facility in applying the name or recognizing a member of 
the class when it presents itself. In general all want of 
distinctness, whether of the first or second kind, must tend 
to interfere with a prompt and accurate naming of objects. 
Want of distinctness in the connotation leads to want of 
certainty with respect to the denotation. At the same 
time, we are often able to name things readily when our 
concepts are far from being perfectly distinct. Thus an 
ordinary child will at once recognize a fruit, and yet be 
unable perhaps to say what the constituent fruit-marks are. 
This suggests that a concept may be distinct in the second 
sense without being so in the same degree in the first. The 
cluster of marks is represented with sufficient distinctness 
for keeping the name apart from other names, and for ap- 
plying it roughly to the objects we meet with ; but there 
is no careful analysis of these characters. 

Causes of Indistinctness of Concepts.— The im- 
perfections just spoken of may arise from either of the 
causes stated above. Many notions are indistinct from 
the first because the percepts and images are so, or be- 
cause the process of abstraction has never been carried 
far enough to bring into distinct relief the common char- 



2i8 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. 

acters of a class of things. This last remark applies with 
special force to the notions of the young and uneducated, 
who can in most cases distinguish the more familiar classes 
of objects, such as oak, tree, church, and so on, but who 
have not carefully reflected on the contents of their 
notions. 

But, again, our notions are apt to become indistinct (in 
both senses) from the lapse of time and the imperfections 
of memory. The concept grows out of images of real 
things, and if our images fade from memory our notions 
necessarily grow hazy. A boy that is always forgetting 
the concrete illustrations of class-names, as water-shed, 
Roman consul, transitive verb, and so on, is sure to lapse 
into vague ideas of these classes. 

Finally, there are certain features of language which 
promote indistinctness, especially in early life. The fact 
that the child is hearing a highly developed language 
spoken about him, which embodies the finer distinctions 
of mature intelligence, must tend to bewilder his mind at 
first. He finds it hard to distinguish between closely 
related and overlapping words, " healthy " and " strong," 
"sensible " and "clever," and so forth. And then there 
is a more serious source of perplexity of an opposite kind, 
viz., that arising from the imperfections of language, and 
more particularly the ambiguities of words. Such ambi- 
guities, by hiding a variety of meanings under one word 
(e. g., pretty, as nice-looking and as moderately), tend to 
baffle the child in trying to discriminate one idea from 
another. This mischief is of course greater where words 
are used loosely by others. A mother, for example, that 
does not distinguish between mere inadvertence and cul- 
pable carelessness, and the teacher that is apt in his im- 
patience to call mere ignorance and intellectual slovenli- 
ness by the same name, adds seriously to the difficulties of 
the young student of language. 

Accuracy of Concepts. — We have to distinguish 



INACCURACY OF CONCEPTION. 219 

between the mere indistinctness of a concept and its posi- 
tive inaccuracy. A distinct notion depends on our clearly- 
representing the marks we take up into our notion : an 
accurate notion depends on our taking up the right ele- 
ments, i. e., the common characters of the class, and no 
others. Or, to express the same thing in different lan- 
guage, an accurate concept is such that the name in which 
it is embodied will cover all the things commonly denoted 
by that name, and no others. 

Inaccuracy of conception, like mere indistinctness, 
may arise either through an imperfect performance of the 
initial processes of comparison and abstraction, including 
the discrimination of one group of things from another, or 
through a subsequent process of decay or disintegration 
of the concept. 

(A) Inaccurate Notions depending on Imperfect 
Abstraction. — To begin with, then, a notion may be 
inaccurate because the process of abstraction or notion- 
formation is incomplete. The first notions of all of us are 
loose and inexact, answering to a rough and hasty process 
of inspecting the objects. Owing to these imperfections, 
the notions are inaccurate ; that is to say, the range of the 
name is not co-extensive with that of the things commonly 
or properly denoted by it. In this way our class, or the 
denotation of our name, becomes too narrow or too wide. 

In the first place, a notion may be formed on too nar- 
row an observation of things, the consequence of which is 
that accidental features not shared in by all members of 
the class are taken up into the meaning of the word as a 
part of its essential import. For example, a child that has 
only seen red roses is apt to regard redness as a part of 
the meaning of rose ; and one whose knowledge of metals 
includes only the more familiar examples, iron, etc., nat- 
urally includes hardness and solidity in his idea of the 
class, which would thus exclude quicksilver. We are all 
apt to take up into our notions the accidental associations 



220 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. 

of our individual experience, the place and time in which 
we live. Thus man to an English child includes the 
notion of a white skin, government that of a sovereign, 
and so on. Such notions are too narrow. 

In the second place, a notion may be inaccurate by 
giving the class too wide an extent. If the mind's obser- 
vation of things is superficial and hasty, only a part of the 
common traits or marks, viz., those which are conspicuous 
and impressive, are embodied in the name. The notions 
of children and of the uneducated are apt to be too wide. 
They pick up a part, but only a part, of the significance 
of ' the words they hear employed. Thus they observe 
among different creatures called " fish " the conspicuous cir- 
cumstance that they live in the water ; and so they make 
this the whole meaning of the word, and are ready to call 
a porpoise or a seal a fish. In a similar way a child will 
call all meals "tea," overlooking the fact that "tea" is a 
more special name than " meal," pointing to a particular 
hour of the day. 

(B) Inaccurate Notions depending on Loss of 
Elements. — While notions may thus be inaccurate at the 
outset, owing to defective observation, they tend still fur- 
ther to become so by the lapse of time and the gradual 
obliteration of some of their elements. Every successive 
loss of such elements involves a growing divergence be- 
tween the name and the things denoted. In other words, 
the concept grows too wide. As names are emptied of 
their full significance they thus become too inclusive. 
Thus a child that forgets that " unkind " implies an inten- 
tion to hurt another will call its playmates or its mother 
unkind where there has been no such intention. The 
converse error, too, of allowing accidental accompaniments 
to insinuate themselves into, and blend with, the notion, 
is not uncommon. Thus, as Waitz observes, a boy, after 
having been taught that the size of an angle is independ- 
ent of the length of the lines that form or inclose it, easily 



ON REVISING OUR NOTIONS. 22 1 

lapses into the error of embodying this accidental element 
in his notion of angular magnitude. 

It is only necessary to remind the reader that indis- 
tinctness of conception is closely related, and commonly 
leads on, to inaccuracy. Where our ideas of things are 
hazy, there is a peculiar danger of dropping essential ele- 
ments and of taking up accidental ones, and so of making 
our classes too wide or too narrow. Not only so, such 
indistinctness is highly favorable to confusing ideas one 
with another and substituting for the proper meaning of a 
term that of some kindred term. 

On Revising our Notions. — It follows from the 
above that the formation of a perfect concept includes not 
one process of comparison and abstraction only, but a suc- 
cession of such processes, by the aid of which the first 
rough draughts of our ideas are improved, and also the 
tendencies in words to lose their significance counteracted. 
Defective conception at the outset can only be made good 
by more searching inspection of the things submitted to 
examination, and also by a wider and more varied observa- 
tion of objects in their similarities and dissimilarities. 

Not only so, even when the concepts have been prop- 
erly formed, they can only be kept distinct, and conse- 
quently accurate, by going back again and again to the 
concrete objects out of which they have in a manner been 
extracted. Only when we do this shall we avoid the error 
of taking empty names for realities, and keep our repre- 
sentations fresh and vivid. If the educator wants to avoid 
that divorce of words from things against which Comenius 
protested, he must continually revivify the notions of his 
pupils by reverting to concrete illustrations. 

Relation of Conception to Imagination.— The 
above remarks help to bring out still more distinctly the re- 
lation between imagination and thought. As we have seen, 
a notion differs from an image in that it contains a repre- 
sentation of common features only, and not of individual 



222 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. 

peculiarities. When words tend strongly to call up images 
of particular concrete objects, the processes of thought are 
obstructed. The highly imaginative mind which instantly 
reduces a word to some concrete instance is heavily handi- 
capped in following out trains of abstract thought.* The 
many interesting accompaniments of the individual things 
interfere with the grasping of their general aspects. 

At the same time, notions are formed out of images. 
Thinking is thus based on imagination (both reproductive 
and constructive). The meaning or content of a word is 
wholly derived from the inspection of concrete things. 
Hence, a notion, in order to have substance in it and to 
be well-defined in shape, must be continually supported 
by images. In order to think clearly, a child must be able 
to imagine distinctly, to call up as occasion requires indi- 
vidual members of the class. 

On Defining Nptions. — Our notions are rendered 
distinct and accurate not merely by going back to con- 
crete facts or examples, but by a number of supplementary 
processes, which may be grouped under the head of defini- 
tion. To define a word in the logical sense is to unfold 
its connotation, to enumerate more or less completely the 
several characters or attributes which make up its mean- 
ing. As we have seen, we form many concepts, such as 
"metal," "man," "civilized country," before we are able 
to represent distinctly the several attributes included in 
the connotation of words. It is only when the mind's 
power of abstraction increases that this higher stage of 

* This is, of course, generally the case with the young and the un- 
educated. The narrowness of their experience, and the feebleness of 
their powers of abstraction, cause words to be pictorial, descriptive of 
concrete individuals rather than symbolically representative of classes. 
This tendency is amusingly illustrated by Mr. Galton. Some one 
began narrating, " I am going to tell you about a boat." A young lady 
of an imaginative turn, being asked what the word "boat" called up, 
answered, "A rather large boat, pushing off from the shore, full of 
ladies and gentlemen." ("Inquiries into Human Faculty," p. no.) 



DISCRIMINATION OF NOTIONS. 



223 



analysis becomes possible. When this has been carried 
out, the mind will be able to retain the essentials of the 
concept by means of the verbal definition. When, for ex- 
ample, the child has learned that glass is a transparent sub- 
stance, composed of certain materials, brittle, easily fused 
by heat, a bad conductor of heat, and so on, the string of 
properties stored up by aid of the verbal memory will serve 
to give distinctness to the concept. 

A second and subordinate part of this process of defini- 
tion of names consists in the discrimination of the notion 
from other notions. The precise meaning of a word is 
only brought out by setting the notion over against its op- 
posite or contrast, and by discriminating it from nearly 
allied notions. Thus, for example, the notion " wise " is 
elucidated by contrasting it with "foolish," and further 
by distinguishing it from allied notions, as "learned." 
Clear thinking implies a habit of distinguishing words and 
their meanings carefully one from another. Similarly, 
" rude " should be contrasted with "polite," and "distin- 
guished " from " uncouth " or " awkward ;" "brave " con- 
trasted with "cowardly," and "discriminated" from "fool- 
hardy." 

Finally, our notions may be denned or rendered more 
sharp in outline by a reference to a classification of things. 
Logicians say that the best way to define a class name 
(especially when the qualities are too numerous, and many 
of them too imperfectly known, for us to enumerate them 
completely) is to name the higher class, or " genus," and 
add the "difference," that is, the leading features which 
mark off the class from co-ordinate classes. Thus we may 
define a parallelogram by saying that it is a four-sided fig- 
ure (higher class), having its opposite sides parallel (dif- 
ference). Such a definition serves to fix in the mind some 
of the more important marks of the objects, and to keep 
the concept distinct from other concepts (e. g., those of 
other four-sided figures). 



224 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. 

Not only so, the practice of dividing a term, or point- 
ing out the several smaller classes composing the class, 
serves to clear up or define our notions. Since a concept 
is formed by means of an inspection of things, an occa- 
sional reference to the whole extent of things covered by 
a name helps to give reality and body to the concept. 
Thus, in teaching a child the meaning of a term like metal, 
it is well to connect it in his mind with all the principal or 
more familiar varieties. In fact, the two processes here 
touched on, bringing out the connotation (logical " defini- 
tion •') and exposing the denotation (logical " division "), 
are mutually complementary. 

Growth of Conceptual Power. — The power by 
which the mind frames general notions is merely an ex- 
pansion of powers which show themselves in a rudiment- 
ary form in the earlier processes of perception. Thus the 
powers of comparison and of abstraction in its wide sense 
are developed, in connection with the process of percep- 
tion itself, in carrying out those detailed operations of 
examining objects of sense on all sides which are involved 
in the formation of clear percepts. Again, the power of 
seizing similarity in the midst of diversity, which is the 
essential process in building up notions of classes and the 
qualities of things, manifests itself in a lower form in the 
first year of life. To recognize the mother's voice, for 
example, as one and the same through all the changes of 
loudness and softness and all the variations of pitch, or 
her figure through all the changes of light, distance, and 
position, clearly implies a certain rudimentary power of 
comparing unlike impressions and detecting likeness amid 
this unlikeness. 

Early Notions. — The gradual development of the 
power of comparing objects and comprehending them in 
classes is one of the most interesting phases in the mental 
history of the individual. By a careful observation of 
children at the time when they begin to understand and 



GROWTH OF CONCEPTION. 225 

use words, we may learn much as to the way in which this 
power spontaneously develops. More particularly, it is in- 
structive to watch the way in which children about a year 
or fifteen months old invent names of their own, and spon- 
taneously extend the words they learn from others to ana- 
logical cases. 

As might be expected, the first notions which children 
form correspond to narrow classes of objects having a 
number of striking points of resemblances ; and, further, to 
those varieties of things which have a special interest for 
the young learners. Thus a child readily connects by one 
name particular varieties of food, as milk and pudding. 
In like manner he soon learns to assimilate certain classes 
of toy, as doll, picture-book, and other objects having 
well-marked resemblances, as hat and clock, etc. For the 
same reason, he at once extends terms, as " puss," " papa," 
which have first been applied to definite individuals, to 
other individuals, on the ground of numerous and promi- 
nent similarities. 

Growth of Conception and of Discrimination. — 
It is to be noted that the child's concepts grow in clear- 
ness and definiteness with the power of noting differences 
as well as likenesses.* At first there seems to be no clear 
discrimination of classes from individuals. The name is 
used for a number of objects as seen to be alike, but, so 
far as we can see, without any clear apprehension whether 
they are the same thing or different things. This is prob- 
ably true of the extension of the word " papa " to other men 
besides the father. The concept becomes definite just in 
proportion as differences are recognized and the images of 
individual objects, this and that person, this and that dog, 
and so on, acquire separateness in the mind. This same 
circumstance explains another fact, namely, that the child 

* M. Perez says that children of about fifteen months, though 
eagerly on the lookout for resemblances, are very little so for differ- 
ences. (" First Three Years of Childhood," p. 195.) 



226 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. 

often uses the names of genera (if not too large classes) 
before those of species. Thus he lumps together animals 
resembling dogs, as goats, under the name "bow-wow." 
In like manner he will apply a word like " apple " to fruit 
generally, or a certain wide group of fruits, as " apple," 
" pear," "orange," etc. Similarly, he will understand in a 
rough way the meaning of the word " flower " before he 
comprehends the names " daisy " or " rose." 

Formation of more Abstract Conceptions. — A 
higher step is taken when the child forms classes founded 
on a single property. The first examples of this higher 
power of abstraction have to do with aspects of objects of 
great interest to him. He first displays a considerable 
power of generalization in grouping together edible things. 
Mr. Darwin, in his interesting account of the early devel- 
opment of one of his children, tells us that when just a 
year old he invented the word " mum " to denote different 
kinds of food. He then went on to distinguish varieties 
of food by some qualifying adjunct. Thus sugar was 
" shu-mum." * Attention to common visual features comes 
later. A little boy known to the present writer, when in 
his eighteenth month, extended the word " ball " to bub- 
bles which he noticed on the surface of a glass of beer. 
This implied the power of abstracting from color and size 
and attending to the globular form. 

As experience widens and the power of abstraction 
strengthens, less conspicuous and more subtile points of 
agreement are seized. Children often perplex their elders 
with their use of words just because the latter can not 
seize the analogy between things or events which the 
young mind detects. f By degrees the young mind ad- 

* See his article, " Biographical Sketch of an Infant," in " Mind," 
July, 1877 (vol. ii) ; cf. M. Taine's account of a little girl's first gen- 
eralization of sweet things under the name " cola " (chocolate) in the 
same volume of " Mind," p. 256. See also M. Taine's work, " On In- 
telligence," vol. ii, book iv, chap, i, § i, par. ii. 

\ For example, a child of two and a half years, seeing a number of 



PROGRESS OF DISCRIMINATION. 227 

vances to the formation of more abstract ideas. One of 
the earliest of these is that of disappearance, or the state 
of being absent, commonly expressed by the sign " ta-ta " 
or some similar expression.* 

Use of Adjectives. — A distinct progress in the 
child's power of abstraction is seen when objects come to 
be qualified by the use of adjectives. A child will, from 
the first stage of speech, pick up and use a few adjectives, 
such as "hot " and " nice," which answer to simple sensa- 
tions of very great interest to him. A more difficult 
achievement is seizing the meaning of a relative term, such 
as "big." The boy already referred to first employed this 
word when he was nearly twenty-two months old. See- 
ing a rook flying over his head, he called out, " Big bird." 

Among these more abstract conceptions reached in 
this early period of life, those of number and time deserve 
a passing notice. Prof. Preyer says that his boy in his 
twenty-sixth month had not the remotest idea of number. 
Another boy, already referred to, when twenty-two months 
old, distinguished one object from a plurality of objects, 
and this was long before he could distinguish two from 
three, and so on. He called any number of objects (be- 
sides one) " two, three, four," according to the formula 
taught him by his mother. When three and a half years old, 
the same child still confused number with size. Thus, on 
seeing beads of three sides, he called the smallest " four," 
the next " five," and the largest " six." f In like manner this 

fowls perched in a row on a fence, said, " They are having tea." He 
had associated the idea of sitting in a row with sitting up at table. 

* Prof. Preyer ("Die Seele des Kindes," p. 295) says his boy 
reached this notion of disappearance by the fifteenth month. The 
boy known to the writer certainly used the sound ta-ta or d b (all gone) 
for signifying the disappearance as well as the absence of a thing when 
he was sixteen months old. 

\ This answers to the fact that many savage races can not count 
above five, i. e., beyond the point at which differences of number are 
plainly apparent to the eye. The lower animals seem to have only the 



228 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. 

child marked off all periods of the past under the head of 
"yesterday," and all periods of the future under the head 
of " to-morrow " or " by-and-by." A considerable ad- 
vance in intelligence (including observation, etc.) is nec- 
essary before children can pass from this rough discrimi- 
nation of one and many to the recognition of particular 
numbers, and from a mere discrimination between past 
and future to the recognition of definite divisions of time, 
as yesterday, to-morrow, last week, next week. 

Period of Fuller Development. — The power of ab- 
straction, of analyzing things and discovering their com- 
mon aspects, qualities and relations, only attains its full 
development slowly. The denotation of names is learned 
long before a careful analysis of their connotation is car- 
ried out. This is seen plainly in the lateness of the com- 
prehension and use of abstract names. As M. Perez ob- 
serves, a child of two will perfectly understand the phrase, 
" This glass is larger than the stopper," but will not under- 
stand the expression, " The size of that house there." * 
The clear grasp of more abstract notions, including those 
of mental and moral qualities, belongs to the stage of 
youth as distinguished from that of childhood. The ear- 
lier period is pre-eminently that of concrete knowledge. 
During this time the number of concepts formed is com- 
paratively small, and these are such as involve the presence 
of numerous or obvious resemblances. But from about 
the twelfth year a marked increase in the power of abstrac- 
tion is commonly observable. In cases where the powers 

most rudimentary perception of numbers. M. Perez (" The First 
Three Years of Childhood," p. 185, etc.) tells us that this corresponds 
to an animal's distinction of number. A cat with only one kitten left 
it out of a number was miserable ; but when two were left it out of 
five it was contented. It thus distinguished between one and many. 
Sir John Lubbock lately remarked that if four eggs are in a nest, one 
may be taken without troubling the mother ; but if two are removed, 
she commonly deserts the nest. 

* Ibid., p. 184. 



INCREASE OF CONCEPTUAL POWER. 



229 



of observation and of imagination have been properly cul- 
tivated we may notice at this stage a strong disposition to 
view things under their common aspects. And, conform- 
ably to this, the language employed becomes more general 
and more abstract. 

How Progress in Conceptual Power is to be 
measured. — This advance may be measured in different 
ways. As the power of abstraction grows, particular im- 
pressions and observations are brought more and more 
under general heads. Again, it is noticeable that concepts 
on the same level of generality are framed with greater 
and greater facility. Less time and effort are needed to 
form a new notion. Once more, the concepts reached 
show a higher degree of generality and are more abstract 
in character. The use of such words as "action," "life," 
" idea," marks &. considerable step onward. The progress 
of conceptual power is marked further by an increased 
distinctness in the concepts formed, and a greater facility 
in defining the terms used, and in distinguishing them 
from other terms with which they are apt to be confused. 

Varieties of Conceptual Power. — Individuals dif- 
fer considerably in their power of abstraction. Some 
minds are much quicker in seeing similarity amid diver- 
sity, in spying analogies among things, and in bringing to 
light the common aspects of objects. These differences 
turn partly on inequalities in power of attention, of draw- 
ing off the thoughts from what is attractive, and fixing 
them on what we desire to note. They depend too, in 
part, on inequalities in the mind's assimilative power. As 
already remarked, it is probable that some persons have a 
special bent of mind to the detection of similarity, whereas 
others lean to the perception of differences. 

What is called a good power of abstraction shows itself 
in a general facility in detecting the common qualities and 
relations of things. At the same time, we commonly find 
the faculty manifesting itself in a special form in some 



230 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. 

particular domain of percepts and ideas. Thus one boy 
will show a special power of abstraction in classing natural 
objects, as minerals and plants ; another, in analyzing 
physical processes ; another, in constructing the ideal no- 
tions of mathematics ; and another, in seizing types of 
human character and classes of motive. 

These differences, again, clearly depend in part on 
native peculiarities. Children are not endowed at the 
outset with the same degree of assimilative power. A 
child at three years will often display a marked quickness 
in tracing out similarities in the forms of objects, manners 
of persons, and so forth. Moreover, the peculiar mental 
constitution and individual tastes may give a special bent 
to a definite form of conception. Thus, other things being 
equal, a boy with an eye closely observant of the forms of 
objects will show a special readiness in dealing with the 
concepts of geometry, while another with abundant mus- 
cular activity and a strong bent toward practical contriv- 
ance will naturally occupy himself in forming notions 
about Nature's processes, the notions with which mechan- 
ics specially deals. 

At the same time, the degree of power of abstraction 
attained generally, or in any special direction, turns to a 
considerable extent on the amount of exercise, training, or 
culture undergone. Speaking roughly, we may say that 
the educated youth is most clearly marked off from the 
uneducated by the possession of a large stock of general 
notions and a facility in noting and detaching the common 
aspects of the things about him. And it is no less mani- 
fest that special devotion to any branch of study, as lan- 
guages or mathematics, will in average cases result in a 
marked increase in a special conceptual aptitude in this 
particular region. 

Training the Power of Abstraction. — The prob- 
lem of exercising the power of abstraction and generaliza- 
tion is attended with peculiar difficulties. Children, it is 



EXERCISE IN CLASSING OBJECTS. 23 1 

commonly said, delight in the concrete, and find abstrac- 
tion arduous and distasteful. Nevertheless, it is certain 
that they spontaneously occupy their minds in discovering 
resemblances among things and in the more simple kinds 
of generalization. There is, indeed, a real intellectual 
satisfaction in discovering similarities among things. A 
young child's face may be seen to brighten up on newly 
discovering some point of similarity.* And to some ex- 
tent this pleasure may be utilized in calling forth and de- 
veloping the child's powers. His lack of interest in gen- 
eralities is often due to the fact that his mind is not sup- 
plied with the necessary concrete examples out of which 
the notions have to be formed. f 

Exercise in Classing Objects. — The training of 
the conceptual power should begin in connection with 
sense-observation. As pointed out above, the analysis of 
objects into their constituent parts and qualities is the 
way in which the power of abstraction first displays itself 
And this exercise should be carried on hand in hand with 
the comparison of one object with another. In this way 
the first lessons in classifying objects and noting their ab- 
stract qualities should arise naturally out of the exercises 
involved in the training of the senses and the observing 
faculty. The impulses of activity should here be enlisted 
as far as possible in picking out and sorting objects, so as 
to lend a more vivid interest to the exercises. 

The process of generalizing may be still further aided 
by a judicious selection of particulars for inspection. 
Here the teacher should remember that it is first impres- 

* E. g., when a boy (twenty-six months old), watching a clog pant- 
ing after a run, exclaimed with evident pleasure, " Dat like a puff 
puff" (locomotive). 

f " There is nothing the human mind grasps with more delight 
than generalization or classification, when it has already made an accu- 
mulation of particulars ; but nothing from which it turns with more 
repugnance in its previous state of inanition." (Isaac Taylor.) 



232 



ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION 



sions which last, and that the examples of a class first 
studied serve to give the impress to the resulting notion. 
Hence, the examples first brought under the attention of 
the pupil should be such as most clearly exhibit the char- 
acteristic qualities of the class, and therefore best serve as 
the representatives of the same. Thus, to take an obvious 
example, in building up the class "food," common and 
familiar varieties, as milk, bread, etc., should be taken 
rather than exceptional varieties. So, in an elementary- 
lesson on botany, good average specimens of a plant, 
showing the typical form, should be preferred to unusual 
or extreme examples. For a similar reason the best speci- 
men of an island to take at the outset is one like Iceland, 
surrounded by a large mass of water, rather than one 
which, like Newfoundland or the Isle of Wight, has the 
striking accidental accompaniment of being a sort of ap- 
pendage to a main-land. So, again, the teacher should be 
careful, in leading up to geometrical concepts, to make his 
representative instances typical. Thus the first triangle 
to present to the eye should not be an extreme form, as 
an isosceles triangle with a very narrow base, but one in 
which each of the three sides and angles is distinct and 
apparent. 

It is well at the outset to reduce as far as possible by 
practical expedient the attractive force of individual pe- 
culiarities against which the faculty of abstraction has to 
work. This is effected, in geometrical teaching, by the 
device of separating form from its concrete embodiment, 
and more particularly the interesting concomitant of color. 
The drawing of a line or circle on the blackboard is an 
enormous aid to the formation of the abstract ideal notion 
of a perfect form separate from substance. The same de- 
vice is available, to some extent, in dealing with the forms 
of concrete objects. Thus it is a great advantage to 
present the typical form (or forms) of the mountain by an 
outline drawing before going on to consider the individual 



TEACHERS GIVE TOO FEW EXAMPLES. 233 

specimens with their several irregularities and peculiarities. 
So, again, it is a great help, in building up the simpler 
notions of number, to begin with plain and not highly- 
interesting objects, such as small pebbles, where the 
diverting influence of color and pleasurable association 
is reduced to a minimum. 

Again, a sufficient variety of instances must be sup- 
plied in every case in order to avoid haste in comparison, 
and subsequent indistinctness and inaccuracy in concep- 
tion. As Waitz observes, the learner must be led to see 
the whole extent of the abstraction, and be able to repro- 
duce this if it is not to suffer in point of clearness and its 
applicability to single cases not to be indefinite. Nothing 
is more fatal than haste in slurring over the preliminary 
process of laying a broad and firm foundation of abstract 
conception in observation of concrete examples. No 
doubt a certain discretion may be observed here. The 
number of instances necessary to a clear concept is not 
the same in every case. As Dr. Bain remarks,* a child 
can be led to see a single quality, such as weight or trans- 
parency, by means of one or two well-chosen examples, 
whereas in the case of classes constituted by a number of 
connected properties, as metal, plant, etc., a large number 
are needful. Nevertheless, it may be safely maintained 
that teachers are in all cases apt to supply too few ex- 
amples. Even the ideas of number can not be properly 
grasped without a variety of objects. The essential idea 
of number, as something independent of the particular 
local arrangement of the objects, can only be made clear 
by varying this — e. g., by presenting three as three dots or 
marbles in a line, as a triangular arrangement, and so on. 
Further, a child only fully seizes the abstract idea of three, 
four, etc., as distinct from three beads, and so forth, by 
comparing groups of different objects, as beads, trees, etc. 
The building up of the elementary ideas of number ought 
* " Education as a Science," chap, vii, p. 197. 



234 



ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. 



to be carried out in part under the parent's guidance in 
the observation of a large variety of every-day groups. 

Once more, throughout this process of training the 
power of abstraction, the teacher should seek to combine 
the exercise of discrimination with that of assimilation. 
Thus he should invite the child to distinguish transparent 
from opaque bodies, solids from fluids, organic from in- 
organic bodies, triangles from quadrangles, and so forth ; 
and the child should be trained in the systematic arrange- 
ment of classes by the processes of classification and 
division. In this way his concepts will grow in point of 
definiteness and orderly arrangement. 

Finally, this operation of comparing and classing should 
be supplemented by naming the objects thus grouped to- 
gether, and pointing out in the form of a definition the 
more important of the traits they have in common. This 
part of the process is attended with its own peculiar risks. 
Looseness in definition is not uncommon among parents 
and teachers. The rules of definition must be observed, 
essential and important qualities selected, and a sufficient 
enumeration of them given to enable the pupil to recog- 
nize members of the class. The test of a good definition 
is that it tells us as much as possible about the distinctive 
nature of the things denoted by the term, and so helps us 
to identify them. To secure this result it is not necessary 
to take the pupil at the outset into a survey of all the 
more obscure properties of things. Thus the term " metal " 
can be defined well enough for children's purposes with- 
out exhaustively setting forth all that the chemist under- 
stands by it; and, similarly, "plant," without bringing into 
view all that a botanist understands by the term. In 
thus using definitions, however, the teacher must be on 
his guard against a substitution of the verbal formula 
used in defining terms for a grasp of the real things them- 
selves and their qualities. The definition must be based 
on, and grow out of, an actual inspection of things, and 



COMPARISON OF REAL OBJECTS. 235 

the vitality of the notion maintained by continual recur- 
rence to concrete objects in the way of identifying them, 
picking them out from a crowd of objects, and so on. 

The leading motto of modern education, " Things before 
names," makes it desirable to base all definition on a com- 
parison of real objects. This truth is clearly recognized 
in teaching the elements of subjects that are commonly 
supposed to set out with definitions, as arithmetic, geome- 
try, and physics. It is vain to plunge a boy into the defi- 
nitions of Euclid till he has been exercised in building up 
ideas of the simpler geometrical forms by inspecting actual 
objects. And it is now coming to be recognized that the 
teaching of grammatical distinctions must follow the same 
rule. That is to say, the real meaning of a part of speech, 
or its function in a sentence, can be best arrived at by in- 
specting actual instances of spoken or written sentences 
and comparing a number of such one with another. 

Explaining Meaning of Words.— A special diffi- 
culty in developing children's powers of abstraction arises 
in connection with the formation of those notions which 
can not be reached by a direct inspection of objects. 
All instruction involves the unfolding of the meaning of 
general terms. In the most elementary lesson in geogra- 
phy or history a certain number of such terms are neces- 
sarily employed. In moral instruction, new and difficult 
words have from time to time to be introduced and ex- 
plained. The art of setting forth the meaning of a new 
term by well-chosen concrete example and in suitable 
language is one of the distinguishing marks of a good in- 
structor. Where the child has had experience of concrete 
examples, as in the case of moral qualities, it is best to 
appeal directly in the first instance to this. Thus temper- 
ance, justice, and so forth, should be made real by refer- 
ence to examples in the child's own life of the quality 
itself and of its opposite. But this should be supple- 
mented by a reference to distinguished historical or liter- 



236 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. 

ary examples, as the patriotism of Horatius, the bravery 
of Grace Darling, etc. And where, as in explaining many 
of the terms used in history, the instructor can not appeal 
to examples in the child's experience, the utmost use must 
be made of the analogies which that experience affords in 
order to secure the construction of clear typical images, 
and so of clear notions. 

Controlling the Child's Use of Words.— There 
is perhaps no part of intellectual training which requires 
so much careful attention as the control of the child's use 
of words. On the one hand it is an evil for a child to 
pick up and use words just because they are used by his 
elders and sound grand, before he can attach precise ideas 
to them. " When," says Madame Necker, " the want of a 
word has preceded the possession of it, the child can apply 
it naturally and justly." But as his intelligence and his 
needs grow, new words should be introduced and ex- 
plained. As the same writer observes, " the power of ex- 
pressing our thoughts helps to clear them up." 

The educator should keep jealous watch over the 
child's use of words with the view of guarding him against 
a slovenly application of them. Looseness and vagueness 
at the outset are apt to induce a slovenly habit of think- 
ing. This danger can only be averted by exercising the 
learner in making his notions as clear as possible. He 
should be well practiced from the first in explaining the 
words he employs. It is of great importance to see that a 
child never employs any word without attaching some in- 
telligible meaning to it. He should be questioned as to 
his meaning, and prove himself able to give concrete in- 
stances or examples of the notion, and (where possible) to 
define his term, roughly at least. The meaning which he 
attaches to the word may be far from accurate, to begin 
with. But the educator may be satisfied with a rough ap- 
proximation to accuracy as long as the meaning is definite 
and clear to the child's mind. As knowledge widens, the 



PUPILS ADVANCED TOO RAPIDLY. 237 

teacher should take pains to supplement and correct these 
first crude notions, substituting exact for rough and inex- 
act definitions. 

Order of taking up Abstract Studies. — The vari- 
ous subjects of instruction exercise the powers of abstrac- 
tion in a very unequal degree, and so should be taken 
up at different times. The strength of faculty involved in 
the classification of natural objects is so slight that it may, 
as observed, be commenced in the age of observation in 
the nursery and Kindergarten. The exercise of abstrac- 
tion in building up ideas of number belongs to a later 
period. Few children, I suspect, are ready for this till 
they reach their fourth or fifth year. And the same ap- 
plies to the formation of elementary geometrical ideas. 
The careful classifications of natural history, as that of 
plants, presuppose a still higher power of comparing, as- 
similating, and discriminating things. A yet more decided 
leap is taken when we pass from these to the higher ab- 
stractions of physical science, as force, momentum, the 
more difficult mathematical conceptions, as sine of an 
angle, and the more abstruse ideas of history and mor- 
als, as state, representative government, justice, and so 
forth.* 

The problem when it is possible and most advanta- 
geous to take up these more abstract subjects, is one of the 
most perplexing ones in the art of education. Individuals 
appear to differ so much in respect of the rapidity of this 
side of intellectual development that no universal rule 
can be laid down. One may, however, safely say that, in 
the past, teachers have been in the habit of taking pupils 
on to these higher exercises too soon, and it is probable 
that the pressure put on the modern teacher to get through 
a number of subjects in a short time leads to an injudi- 

* One of the most difficult points to determine in the order of 
abstractness is the proper position of grammar, in its more logical as- 
pects. See Bain, "Education as a Science," p. 213. 



238 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. 

cious, if not wasteful and positively injurious, introduction 

of abstract studies before the mind is fully prepared for 

them. 

APPENDIX. 

On the early developments of the powers of abstraction the reader 
should consult M. Perez's volume, " The First Three Years of Child- 
hood," chaps, x, ii, iii, and iv ; also the work of Prof. Preyer, " Die 
Seele des Kindes " (3 ter Theil). 

On the training of the powers of abstraction the reader would do 
well to read Locke's valuable chapters on the " Imperfection and Abuse 
of Words," " Essay," book iii, chaps, ix-xi. The difficulties of exercis- 
ing the powers of abstraction and the best means of alleviating these 
are well dealt with by Dr. Bain, " Education as a Science," chap, vii, 
pp. 191-197. The German reader should also consult Beneke, op. cit., 
§§ 26-38, and Waitz, " Allgemeine Paedagogik," 2 ter Theil, § 21, and 
Pfisterer, " Paedagogische Psychologie," § 27. In connection with this 
subject the teacher should read those chapters in logic which deal 
with terms and their distinctions, and with the processes of division 
and definition (e. g., Jevons, " Elementary Lessons in Logic," iii, v, and 
xii). 



CHAPTER XIV. 

JUDGING AND REASONING. 

The process of abstraction and conception unfolded in 
the last chapter prepares the way for the higher develop- 
ments of thought, viz., judging and reasoning. These 
operations are so closely connected that it is best to con- 
sider them together. 

Nature of Judgment. — In common life, to judge is 
to come to a decision about a question, as the judge does 
in a court of law. This presupposes a question, room for 
doubt, and a complicated process of weighing evidence. 
In mental science the term is used in a more comprehen- 
sive sense. We judge, whenever we affirm or deny one 
thing of another, whether the matter is clear and certain, as 
in saying, "This is a rose," "Two and two make four," or 
one that admits of doubt, as " This plan is the best." The 
act of judging is seeing that a thing is so, and being ready 
to affirm it. 

The result of the act is called a judgment. Every 
judgment admits of being expressed in a statement, or 
what logicians call a proposition. The " subject " of the 
proposition answers to the thing about which we affirm, 
and the predicate to that which is affirmed. Thus, in the 
statement, "Fire warms," the mind is predicating some- 
thing about fire, the subject, viz., that it has the power of 
warming. 

It is evident that to affirm one thing of another in- 



240 JUDGING AND REASONING. 

volves a reference to fact or reality. When a child says 
that its food is hot, or that a plate is dirty, it thinks of the 
object as actually in this condition. That is to say, judg- 
ment implies belief about a fact. Where we do not be- 
lieve that a thing really has that which is predicated, we 
do not judge. Again, it is plain that, since in judging we 
represent a thing as being so or so, our judgment may be 
correct or incorrect or mistaken, according as the repre- 
sentation does or does not accord with the real fact. 
And, finally, for the same reason the proposition which 
declares the judgment may be either true or false. 

That which we predicate or pronounce about a thing 
in our statement is not in every case the same. Some- 
times we comprehend a thing in a class, or endow it with 
certain qualities, as in the affirmations, " This is a flint," 
"This knife is rusty." In others we set forth a relation 
between things, as in the propositions, " Ireland lies to the 
west of Great Britain," " Heat softens bodies." One im- 
portant class of affirmations has to do with the relation of 
similarity and dissimilarity, as in the judgments, " French 
resembles Latin," "The opposite sides of a parallelogram 
are equal," " Any two sides of a triangle are greater than 
the third." 

All predication affirms likeness or unlikeness, either 
explicitly or implicitly. Thus, in placing an object in a 
class, and less distinctly in attributing to it a certain qual- 
ity, we are assimilating it to other objects. So again in 
predicating a relation, as that of cause and effect, between 
things we are assimilating the particular causal agent as 
such to other known causes. 

It may be seen from this short account of judgment 
that it is co-extensive with the whole area of knowledge. 
Everything that we know or think that we know involves 
an element of judgment, and when it becomes distinct 
knowledge can be explicitly set forth in a proposition. 
Thus, even in our every-day acts of perception, we implic- 



CONCEPTS AND JUDGMENTS. 241 

itly affirm that what we see is a real tangible thing, that 
it lies at a particular distance from us, that it presents cer- 
tain features, and so forth. The simplest act of analysis 
performed on an object of perception thus involves the 
rudiment of a judgment. This may not become explicit 
and express itself in a proposition (audible or inaudible), 
but the essential activity of judging is present in some 
measure. 

Relation of Concept to Judgment. — It is evident 
that a judgment, as connecting two ideas one with another, 
is a more complex mental product than a concept. Every 
explicit act of judgment implies a concept already formed. 
We can not affirm anything of a concrete individual ob- 
ject, as when we say, " This stone is a fossil," or " This 
substance is transparent," without already having the idea 
of fossil or of transparency. 

On the other hand, while the judgment thus presup- 
poses the concept, the formation of the concept itself 
involves a rudimentary form of judging. Thus a child 
can not form the idea "heavy" without comparing heavy 
objects and implicitly affirming them to agree in respect 
of this quality. Every successive stage of generalization 
is thus carried out by a process of judging things to be 
similar. And in building up the more complex concepts 
of classes, as "iron" or "metal," the child is connecting 
a number of qualities, e. g., weight, hardness, metallic 
luster. This work of combining qualities goes on gradu- 
ally as he comes to discover new properties in things, and 
is carried out by successive acts of judging. That is to 
say, the result of an act of judgment becomes embodied 
in a concept. After finding out, for example, that iron is 
softened by heat, the child will take up this fact into his 
idea of iron, which thus becomes fuller and richer. We 
see, then, that the successive developments of our concepts 
are effected by means of acts of judgment, and every such 
enlargement of a concept supplies an element for a higher 



242 JUDGING AND REASONING. 

form of judgment. Thus the growth of conception and 
judging go on together and assist one another. 

Process of Judging. — The mental operation which 
leads up to decision and animation may be brief and 
simple, or prolonged and intricate. Speaking generally, 
however, we may say that judging involves (a) materials 
for judgment ready to hand, and {b) a process of reflecting 
on these in order to see to what result they point. 

(a) The materials which enable us to judge about 
things are supplied either by our own personal experience 
or by the words or testimony of others. Experience and 
authority are thus the two great sources of our facts or 
data. 

It is evident that the ability to judge about any matter 
presupposes careful observation in the past and ready 
reproduction. I can not decide whether this flower is an 
orchid, or this stone an onyx, unless I have carefully 
noted the characters of the class, distinguishing it from 
other classes. Moreover, unless we observe and recall 
things in their true connections of time and place, we 
shall not be in a position to decide about them. Thus, in 
judging as to the nature of a rock, we need to recall not 
only the exact appearance of the rocks it resembles, but 
their position in relation to other strata. 

The testimony of others, including tradition and au- 
thority, is a great additional source of materials of judg- 
ment. A child that trusted exclusively to his own experi- 
ence, and attached no value to others' statements, would 
not be in a position to decide about many matters. But 
authority can easily exercise an excessive influence on 
judgment. A person who believes a thing just because he 
is told, when he might find out for himself whether the 
fact is really so, is not using his materials. 

(<£) The process of reflection on the materials involves 
an act of will. To come to a sound decision on a matter 
of any difficulty implies that the mind rejects what is 



WHAT JUDGING IMPLIES. 243 

irrelevant, steadily keeps in view all the relevant facts, 
and weighs well the precise bearing of each fact on the 
case. And all this is a special exercise of the power of 
voluntarily concentrating the thoughts. The higher this 
power of voluntary control of the mental contents, the 
more clear and rapid the decision. 

To judge brings into full play the functions of assimi- 
lation and discrimination. In order to judge about any 
matter, we must be able to detect its affinities to what is 
already familiar. To say, " This is a flint," implies that 
the mind classes the object with previously known objects 
on the ground of certain resemblances. And while assimi- 
lation is thus a prominent ingredient in judging, discrimi- 
nation is no less conspicuous. An act of sense-discrimi- 
nation is the simplest type of judgment. And in classing 
an object, e. g., a flint, the mind has to carefully distin- 
guish the essential marks of this from those of other 
stones with which it might be confounded. It is only 
when we thus discriminate, and by discriminating assimi- 
late the new to the old in their essential affinities, that we 
are able to judge accurately. 

As a last element in this process of voluntary reflection 
and control we have the repression of feeling and inclina- 
tion. When we strongly desire to find a thing so and so, 
our minds are apt to be biased in this direction. To 
judge well whether a course is wise or right presupposes 
that we keep down any inclination or disinclination to this 
course. 

The process of judging having been carried out, there 
remains the expression of the result reached in suitable 
language. This is by no means an insignificant part of 
the operation. Persons who do not clearly seize the 
meaning of terms, and who are lax in their use of language, 
are apt to express their decisions badly. Clear thinking 
includes the ability and disposition to give as precise a 
form as possible to the expression of the thought. 



244 JUDGING AND REASONING. 

Affirmation and Negation. — The simplest type of 
judgment is an affirmation, a positive assertion that a 
thing is so and so. But all our judgments are not affirma- 
tive. Logicians distinguish between affirmative and nega- 
tive judgments and propositions. We may deny as well as 
affirm, or say that a thing is not, as well as that it is. 
Negation refers back to a previous affirmation actually 
made or suggested to the mind. Thus, to say, " It is not 
going to rain," implies that the corresponding affirmation 
(" It is going to rain ") has actually been made by some- 
body, or has somehow been suggested by a question, " Is 
it going to rain ? " or otherwise. Negation is the putting 
away or the rejection of an affirmation as untrue or false. 
Our minds are unable to combine the ideas answering to 
subject and predicate in the way proposed. 

It is evident that while affirmation is to a large extent 
based on a discovery of similarity, negation is based on 
the detection of difference. If I say, " This is not a real 
fossil," or "This is not an equilateral triangle," it is be- 
cause I discriminate the features presented by the object 
before me from those of the class. Negative judgments 
are of high importance as setting forth distinctions be- 
tween things. The mind that is acute in distinguishing 
facts and ideas naturally resorts to this type. 

Logicians tell us that every statement which can be 
made or proposed must be either true or false : e. g., 
" Either this flower is an orchid or it is not." Hence it 
follows that, whenever called on to judge about a matter, 
the mind has to decide between an affirmation and a nega- 
tion. For example, we have to make up our minds 
whether this is a real diamond or a spurious one, whether 
this boy is guilty or is not guilty, that is, innocent. Hence 
an act of judgment (when its meaning is made explicit) is 
in every case a choice between two alternatives, and so it 
resembles the decision of a judge, to which, as already 
pointed out, the expression " to judge " seems originally to 



SUSPENSION OF JUDGMENT. 245 

refer. The ability to decide or make up one's mind about 
any matter thus depends on the mind's power of discrimi- 
nating (1) what tells for, and what tells against, a proposi- 
tion ; and (2) which of the considerations (or groups of 
considerations) has the greater importance. 

Belief and Doubt. — So far it has been assumed that 
the mind must decide one way or another about any mat- 
ter presented to it. But this is not the only alternative. 
We may waver between affirming that this is a real dia- 
mond and denying it, in which case we are said to suspend 
our judgment. The mental state thus induced is one of 
doubt.* Thus I may feel altogether uncertain whether it 
is going to rain or not, and so can not be said to form any 
judgment about the matter. This state of mind is op- 
posed to and excludes the state of belief or definite assur- 
ance. When we definitely make up our mind about a 
matter, we say we " are satisfied " that it is so ; and this ex- 
pression shows that our minds are at rest, and we feel 
ready to act. When, on the contrary, we doubt, our minds 
are pulled in two directions, there is a sense of conflict or 
discord, and action is impossible. Doubt is a more com- 
plex mental state than belief, involving a grasp of a plural- 
ity of opposing considerations. Hence it shows itself 
later in the history of the child. 

Extent of Judgment. — The distinction between af- 
firmative and negative judgments is called one of quality. 
In addition to this, logicians recognize a distinction of 
qua?itity, or extent. Thus some propositions affirm or deny 
something of an individual thing, as, " This is a shell." 
These are called singular propositions. Others, again, 
predicate something of classes of things. Of these some 
affirm about a whole class, as, " All shells are built by ani- 
mals." These are universal propositions. Others, again, 

* The etymology of the word (dubio, from duo, cf. German zweifeln, 
from zwei) suggests this oscillation of mind between two conflicting 
alternatives. 



246 JUDGING AND REASONING. 

assert something about a portion of a class, as, " Some (or 
many) shells are found in the sea." These are known as 
particular propositions. 

It is obvious that these judgments differ greatly in their 
value. The most important class of judgments are the 
universal. These are far more difficult to reach than sin- 
gular or particular judgments. And it is by help of these, 
as we shall see presently, that we are able to reason clear- 
ly and securely. 

Perfection of Judgments: Clearness. — Our judg- 
ments, like our notions, have different perfections or ex- 
cellences. And according to the degree in which these 
manifest themselves we say that a person has a high or low 
power of judgment. 

Of these perfections the first is clearness. By this is 
meant that the concepts combined in the judgment be dis- 
tinct, and that the relations involved be distinctly appre- 
hended. Want of distinctness in terms leads to indefinite- 
ness in statement. The judgment, " Vice is debasing," has 
just as much clearness to a boy's mind as belongs to the 
ideas " vice " and " debasing." Not only so, a judgment 
can not be clear unless the mind discerns all that is imme- 
diately implied in the assertion, the equivalence of the as- 
sertion to other verbally unlike statements, and its incom- 
patibility with other contradictory statements. 

Judgments tend to be indistinct in a number of ways. 
A common source of indefiniteness is imperfect observa- 
tion, which may give rise to the vague apprehension of 
some relation of things, though the exact nature of this 
relation is not made clear to the mind. Thus if a boy 
fails to observe how an object was situated relatively to 
other adjacent objects, or what was the exact order of 
events in a natural process, he is not in a position to 
judge about it. Again, defects of memory, by leading to 
indistinct reproduction, are a great obstacle to clearness of 
judgment. If the mind fails to recall the exact qualities 



HINDRANCES TO JUDGMENT. 247 

of things, it will be incapable of making definite assertions 
about them. 

Again, it is to be noted that, as in the case of concepts, 
so in that of judgments, what was once clear may become 
hazy or indefinite by the separation of words and ideas. 
When a boy forgets the facts on which a principle is 
based, he has no longer a clear perception of its reality and 
truth. In this way truths, at first clearly apprehended, may 
in time, by mechanical repetition, pass into lifeless formulas, 
in which there is no clear apprehension of the contents 
and no vivid belief. 

Once more, the intrusion of feeling into the intellectual 
domain inevitably leads to vagueness of judgment. 
Strong feeling is incompatible with careful observation, fine 
discrimination of ideas, etc. Judgments passed under the 
influence of strong emotion are in general character- 
ized by vagueness and exaggeration. 

Vagueness of judgment is apt to show itself in a special 
degree in those beliefs and opinions which we passively 
adopt from others without seeking to make them our own 
by personal observation and reflection. A too easy habit 
of donning the prevailing views of those about us is fatal 
to the exercise of a clear judgment. 

Accuracy of Judgment. — Again, our judgments, 
like our notions, may be accurate or inaccurate. An ac- 
curate judgment is one which corresponds precisely to the 
realities represented, or which faithfully expresses the re- 
lations of things. Want of clearness in judging leads on 
naturally to looseness of judgment. Propositions which 
are not clearly understood tend to be wmmderstood. 
The more flagrant forms of inaccuracy arise from inaccu- 
rate observation and inexact reproduction. Strong feel- 
ing, too, may bring about a considerable divergence of 
statement from reality. 

In addition to these sources of inaccuracy, we have to 
recognize the imperfections and limitations of each indi- 



248 JUDGING AND REASONING. 

vidual's experience. Our judgments are the outcome of 
our special type of experience, our individual associations. 
Accuracy of judgment thus presupposes the interaction of 
the individual and the social intelligence. The child has 
continually to rectify his judgments about things by a 
reference to the standard of common experience. 

Other Merits of Judgment. — Besides clearness and 
accuracy of judgment there are other excellences arising 
out of the way in which the mind decides and abides by 
its decisions. Thus a certain degree of promptness in 
decision is a condition of a good faculty of judging. A 
mind drawn hither and thither by conflicting tendencies, 
and unable to master these, is weak in judgment. Chil- 
dren are often unable to decide which is pleasantest or 
best, just because their minds are mastered by the con- 
tending ideas. On the other hand, there is the opposite 
fault of impulsiveness or rashness, that is to say, an over- 
eagerness in coming to a decision, accompanied by an im- 
patience of the delay involved in reflecting, weighing 
evidence, etc. This is still more common in children 
than the other defect. A good faculty of judgment com- 
bines promptness with deliberateness. 

Again, a decision is good when it is more than moment- 
ary, and exhibits a certain degree of stability. It is 
natural and proper that a decision when arrived at should 
persist. Such persistence is clearly necessary to fixity of 
opinion about things, and to the maintenance of consist- 
ency among our beliefs. To assert one thing to-day and 
another thing to-morrow shows a feeble and untrained 
faculty of judgment. Vacillation in opinion, e. g., about 
the worth of things, the characters of others, and so forth, 
is common in the unformed mental state of childhood. 
On the other hand, our judgments are liable to be modi- 
fied by new influences, whether new facts of experience, 
new communications from others, or, finally, further pro- 
cesses of reflection on our data. Hence, if firmness and 



INDEPENDENCE IN JUDGMENT. 249 

consistency of judgment are a merit, obstinacy is clearly a 
defect. Persons of narrow experience and rigid mental 
habits show this narrowness. In children this rigidity is 
rare. Openness of mind is proper to the stage of igno- 
rance. The first condition of mental growth is that we 
keep our minds open to new impressions, and the longer 
we retain something of the child's susceptibility to new 
impressions, the longer shall we continue to grow. Ex- 
cellence of judgment is thus seen here, too, to lie between 
two extremes, viz., instability and obstinacy. 

Closely related to the quality of stability is that of in- 
dependence. When there is no strong individual opinion, 
the mind is at the mercy of the social surroundings of the 
time. Children of a less robust character are prone to an 
excessive leaning on the judgments of their parents or 
companions. On the other hand, a disregard of the be- 
liefs of others is the mark of an obstinate and intractable 
intelligence. An opinionated, priggish child, that is above 
correction by others, is as disagreeable as it is happily rare. 
Here, again, excellence of judgment lies between two ex- 
tremes. A mind that judges well about things combines 
a measure of intellectual independence with a due regard 
for the claims of others' convictions. 

Inference and Reasoning. — Whenever the mind 
passes from one fact to another, regarding the first as a 
sign of the second and accepting it previously to actual 
observation, it is said to infer. Thus we infer when we 
notice that the sky is overcast, and predict a shower of 
rain. The belief in the coming shower is produced by 
the observation of something which our experience has 
led us to regard as a mark of this event. 

It is evident from this example that inference is based 
on the detection of similarity among facts or experiences. 
Thus I predict the shower because I identify the present 
aspect of the sky with previously observed appearances 
which were actually followed by rain. In recognizing a 



250 JUDGING AND REASONING. 

part of the whole present situation, viz., the lowering sky 
as similar to the previous one, I recognize the other parts, 
viz., what followed, the rain. In inference, we identify 
things or events in their connection with or their relation 
to other things or events, and so are able to go beyond 
what we actually see at the moment — the known — to what 
we do not see — the unknown. 

Inference may assume a lower or a higher form. In 
the former, the mind passes at once from particular facts 
in past experience to other facts, without clearly setting 
forth the ground or reason of the conclusion. Thus a 
child infers that this water will wet, this grown-up person 
be able to tell him something he wants to know, and so 
forth, without making clear to his mind the general truth 
that all water wets, or that grown-up people are in general 
superior in knowledge to children. This way of inferring 
from particulars to particulars may be called implicit 
reasoning. It is the primitive and instinctive mode of 
inference. The lower animals, when inferring as to the 
proximity of prey, enemies, and so forth, do so in this 
way. And children, before they acquire the use of gen- 
eral language and abstract ideas, habitually draw conclu- 
sions in this informal manner. From this primitive and 
informal inference we have to distinguish explicit, formal, 
or logical reasoning. In this process the mind distinctly 
seizes a general truth and makes this the ground of its 
conclusion. Thus, when a child grows in intelligence, he 
will learn and understand that adults are better informed 
than children ; and, seizing this truth, he will be able to 
reason that any given individual will show the same char- 
acteristics. 

The advantages of this formal procedure are apparent. 
So long as a child passes directly from one fact to another 
on the ground of similarity or analogy, his conclusion is 
more or less precarious. If, for example, a boy infers that 
a piece of wood will float because other pieces have float- 



THE ELEMENT OF INFERENCE. 25 1 

ed, he may make a mistake. If, however, he first satisfies 
himself on the general question whether all sorts of wood 
float, he will be able to conclude with certainty. These 
advantages of definiteness and certainty lead to the 
gradual adoption of the higher and logical form of rea- 
soning, so far as it can be made use of. All the higher 
processes of thought, including the whole of what we 
mean by science, are illustrations of explicit or logical 
reasoning. 

Relation of Judging to Reasoning. — We may 
now understand the relation of judging to inferring. In 
its higher or more developed form reasoning presupposes 
judging. Formally considered, reasoning is passing from 
certain judgments to other judgments. Thus, before a 
boy can explicitly argue that a particular substance will 
float in water, he must have already judged that all sub- 
stances of a certain order (e. g., those lighter than water) 
will do so. 

While, however, judgment is thus necessary to formal 
reasoning, there is an element of inference in most, if not 
all, our processes of judging. Thus, in the simple act of 
recognizing an object by certain marks, the mind com- 
monly goes beyond what is actually observed at the mo- 
ment. If, for instance, I say, " This is a flint," I virtually 
assert that it is hard, that I can strike sparks out of it, and 
so forth. And this ingredient of inference becomes much 
more distinct in certain complicated processes of judging, 
e. g., as to the genuineness of a coin or a picture.* Finally, 
it is plain that every process of reasoning ends in a judg- 
ment as its result or conclusion. In this way our reason- 
ing processes help us in reaching our judgments ; while, 
reciprocally, our judgments, when reached, become start- 

* Our every-day judgments about matters of probability are really 
inferences from past experience, often of an " instinctive " or semi- 
conscious character, but capable, to some extent, of being set forth 
formally according to certain laws or principles of probability. 



252 JUDGING AND REASONING. 

ing-points for new processes of reasoning. The relation 
is one of mutual dependence, similar to that between con- 
ception and judging. 

Inductive and Deductive Reasoning. — The full 
explicit process of reasoning by v/ay of a universal judg- 
ment is commonly said to fall into two parts or stages. 
(a) Of these, the first is the operation of reaching a general 
truth or principle by an examination and comparison of 
facts : this is known as induction, (b) The second stage 
is the operation of applying the truth thus reached to 
some particular case : this is known as deduction. In- 
duction is an upward movement of thought from particu- 
lar instances to a general truth, principle, or law ; deduc- 
tion a downward movement from some general principle 
to a particular conclusion. 

(A) Nature of Inductive Reasoning.— The pro- 
cess of inductive reasoning illustrates the fundamental 
activity that underlies all thinking, viz., the detecting of 
similarity amid diversity. Let us examine an instance of 
deductive reasoning. The child observes that his toys, 
spoons, knives, he himself, and a vast multitude of other 
objects, when not supported, fall. He gradually compares 
these facts one with another, and seizes the essential cir- 
cumstance in them, and the general truth implied in 
them. He notes that what all these things have in com- 
mon is that they are material bodies. He then detaches 
this circumstance, and along with it the incident (falling 
to the ground) which has invariably accompanied it. 
That is to say, he judges that all material bodies tend to 
fall. 

It is obvious that, in reaching this universal truth, the 
young investigator is going far beyond the limits of actual 
observation. For the proposition includes every or any 
material body wherever met with. It is thus a process of 
inference, and its result a conclusion. 

The process is clearly related to that of generalization 



CHILDISH INDUCTIONS. 



253 



described above.* In each case we trace out a similarity 
among a diversity of things. The difference is that, where- 
as in the case of generalization we assimilate things merely 
as such, in the case of induction we assimilate things viewed 
in their connection with some other thing. Moreover, just 
as there are higher and lower conceptions, so there are 
higher and lower inductions. The child begins with a 
number of narrow inductions, e. g., " Flies die," " Birds 
die," and so forth. He then compares these one with 
another, and, extracting what is common to them, reaches 
the higher truth, " All animals die." Later on he couples 
this with the kindred truth similarly reached, " All plants 
die," and so arrives at the yet more comprehensive induc- 
tion, " All living things die. " 

Spontaneous Induction. — Although children com- 
monly draw inferences directly from particulars, they show, 
when they acquire the power of abstraction and the com- 
mand of words, a tendency to draw general conclusions 
from the facts of their experience. An instance or two, 
especially if they are striking and impressive, may suffice 
to beget the inference to a general rule. One experience 
of the burning properties of fire is enough for an induc- 
tion : " The burnt child dreads the fire." This natural 
impulse leads in early life to hasty induction. Here is an 
example : A boy of two and a half was accustomed to 
dwell on the fact that he would in time grow to be big. 
One day, as he was using a small stick as a walking-stick, 
his mother told him it was too small ; on which he at once 
remarked, " Me use it for walking-stick when stick be big- 
ger." He had implicitly argued that all things tend to 
grow bigger in time. The inductions of the young and of 
the uneducated are often of this type. The tendency of 
all of us is to argue that what is true of ourselves, and of 

* Indeed, induction is often called generalization, as when we speak 
of " a hasty generalization," meaning a general statement hastily built 
up from fact or experience. 



254 JUDGING AND REASONING. 

our own little sphere of observation, is true of mankind 
and of things generally. 

Regulated Induction. — This natural impulse to build 
up general conclusions on a narrow and precarious basis 
becomes corrected by wider experience as well as by edu- 
cation. Thus the child that argues that all nurseries have 
a rocking-horse like his own, that all dogs take to the 
water, and so on, learns, either by his own observations or 
from what others tell him, that his conclusion is hasty and 
inaccurate. Pulled up, so to speak, in his early attempts 
to reach a general truth, he grows more cautious. The 
impulse to comprehend particular facts under a general 
truth is not arrested ; it is simply guided and controlled. 
Induction now proceeds in a more circumspect and me- 
thodical manner. The young inquirer takes pains to col- 
lect a wider variety of observations, and so learns to dis- 
tinguish between what is true of a part of a class and what 
is true universally. Not only so, he examines the instances 
he thus collects more closely, in order to ascertain their 
deeper and essential, as distinguished from their super- 
ficial and accidental, resemblances. Thus, for example, 
he finds out that the fact of growth is connected with life, 
and he will consequently restrict the idea to living things. 

Induction and Causation. — Among the most im- 
portant truths reached by way of this process of inductive 
comparison are those having to do with the causes of 
things. In order to produce any result, we must know the 
conditions which regulate or determine it. We can only 
predict events with certainty when we know the circum- 
stances on which they depend. Hence, inquiry into the 
causes of things has always constituted a chief part of 
human investigation. This is seen in the very use of the 
word "reason." To find the reason for an occurrence 
commonly means to ascertain its cause, and so to explain 
how it happened or was brought about. 

Children's Idea of Cause. — The child's daily ex- 



DEVELOPING THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 2 $$ 

perience is continually presenting events or occurrences 
in a certain order. Thus he soon finds out that food satis- 
fies hunger, that water quenches thirst, that a hard blow- 
gives him pain, and so on. He soon learns, too, that his 
own actions produce certain results. Thus he discovers 
that he can break a stick (if not too stout) by bending it, 
that he can open the door by turning the handle and then 
pulling (or pushing), etc. Later on he observes that things 
about him are related to one another in the same way ; for 
instance, that the appearance of the sun is connected with 
daylight, of rain with muddy streets. Numerous experi- 
ences of this kind gradually suggest to his mind the idea 
of cause. He then goes beyond the limits of the cases of 
causal dependence which he has actually observed, and 
mounts to the universal principle : everything that happens 
has its cause. 

There is good reason to suppose that the child molds 
his first idea of cause on the pattern of his own actions 
and their results. The first inquiries of young children, 
" Who made the snow ? " " Who made the flowers grow ? " 
and so forth, point to this conclusion. The production of 
any natural result is thought of as brought about by a con- 
scious action analogous to his own actions. The full de- 
velopment of this idea is seen in the common supposition 
of young children that everything has its use or purpose. 
The meaning of the question " Why ? " in the mouth of a 
child of three or four seems equivalent to, " For what pur- 
pose or end ? " It is only after a certain development of 
intelligence has been attained that children learn to dis- 
tinguish between the sphere of human action with its pur- 
pose or end, and that of natural or physical causation. 

Natural Reasoning about Causes. — The natural 
impulse of the young to rise from particulars to generalities 
is illustrated in a peculiarly striking manner in their in- 
ferences as to the causes of things. The early age at which 
they begin to inquire into the causes of events favors the 



256 JUDGING AND REASONING. 

hypothesis that they have an inherited disposition to think 
in this way, that is to say, to view events as dependent on 
certain antecedent conditions. The play of this natural 
impulse results in many hasty inductions. A very slight 
analogy between things often leads a child to conclude 
that they have the same cause or can be acted upon by 
the same forces. This shows itself in an amusing form in 
the early reasonings of children. Thus a boy two years 
and ten months old said one day he would put water on 
some bits of bread lying on his plate in order to get rid 
of them. He here reasoned badly from the analogy of 
dissolving sugar in milk, etc. 

Hasty induction with respect to causes shows itself, 
too, in other ways. The desire to find some cause for a 
thing often leads to the fixing of the mind on any attend- 
ant circumstance, though this may be only accidentally 
present in the case, and has nothing to do with the effect 
produced. Thus a little boy of two once argued that milk 
was white because it came from a white cow which he had 
happened to see ; and on another occasion, finding his 
milk cold, he said, " Cold cow make milk cold." * 

Again, the mind is apt to argue that a thing is always 
produced by one and the same cause, and this leads to 
error. Thus a child when just two years old, having one 
day scratched himself, and, being asked how the blood 
came on his hands, said, " Fell down on path," and a few 
months later the same child argued that the slipping off 
of his glove was the result of the wind blowing it off. In 
these cases the impulse to account for things by aid of 
causes already known led to a total neglect of observation. 
Children argue that all pretty things are bought in shops, 
that plants injured by the wind have been broken by hu- 
man hands, and can be mended by the same, and so forth. 

* It is probable that each of these hasty inferences was based on 
observations of the transmission of a quality or state from one body to 
another. 



INDUCTIVE REASONING. 257 

Regulated Reasoning about Causes. — The care- 
ful discovery of causes is often a very difficult process, 
and always implies an orderly method of procedure. 
This is seen in its perfect form in scientific investigation.* 
Among the more important processes here involved are a 
careful observation and retention of a variety of instances 
of the effect produced, and further a painstaking analysis 
of these instances, and a discrimination of what is invaria- 
ble and essential in the circumstances from what is varia- 
ble and accidental. Thus, in order to ascertain the causes 
of combustion, we compare numerous instances, as the 
burning of coal in the grate, the gas flame, and so forth, 
and by analyzing these, and eliminating what is accidental, 
arrive at the common circumstance, the presence of cer- 
tain combustible substances, and of oxygen, with which 
these tend to combine. 

The process of scientific induction implies, further, 
active experimenting with things. By this means we can 
vary the surroundings of the phenomenon or process we 
are observing as we like ; and by so doing are far better 
able to ascertain what circumstances can be taken away 
or eliminated without affecting the result, and what can 
not. Thus, in inquiring into the cause of combination, we 
find that the nitrogen of the air can be removed and the 
process of combustion still go on, while the oxygen can 
not thus be dispensed with. 

It is evident, from this brief inquiry into inductive rea- 
soning, that, in order to carry out the process properly, 
much care and industry are needed. Good induction 
presupposes a trained faculty of observation. A thorough 
examination of facts includes two things : (a) the inspec- 
tion of a sufficient number of instances, and (b) the ade- 
quate scrutiny and analysis of the facts that are observed. 

* The term " induction " is commonly restricted to this orderly and 
exact type of investigation, the term " generalization " being used for 
rough every-day modes of reaching general propositions. 



258 JUDGING AND REASONING. 

A defect in respect of the first condition leads to " hasty 
generalizing," as when a child says that his parent or 
teacher is unfair by confining his attention to one or two 
ambiguous cases, and not considering his general manner 
of acting. A defect in respect of the second condition 
tends to beget misapprehension, as when the child calls 
his teacher unfair on the ground of one or more actions, 
a deeper examination of which would show that there was 
no real injustice involved. Finally, the due performance 
of the inductive process implies that the investigator 
keeps his mind free from prepossession and bias, ready to 
accept any truth which the facts reveal to him, whether 
they answer to his expectations and his particular inclina- 
tions or not.* 

* The reader should note the close correspondence between the 
sources of erroneous induction and those of inaccurate conception 
mentioned above. 



CHAPTER XV. 

JUDGING AND REASONING {continued}. 

Deductive Reasoning. — By induction the child 
reaches a large amount of general knowledge about 
things, including the properties of substances, the causes 
of changes in things, the laws that govern human action, 
and the simpler truths of space, quantity, and number. In 
arriving at these, he is of course greatly aided by others' 
instruction, and in many cases he derives his general 
knowledge in the first instance exclusively from what 
others tell him. Having thus amassed a quantity of gen- 
eral knowledge, he is able to pass on to the second stage 
of explicit reasoning, namely, deduction. By this is 
meant reasoning downward from a general truth or prin- 
ciple to some particular case or class of cases. Thus a 
child who has found out, partly by observation and partly 
by instruction, that all persons are liable to make mis- 
takes, is apt to apply the truth by arguing that his mother 
or his governess makes mistakes. The type of deductive 
reasoning when fully set forth is known as a syllogism, 
and is as follows : 

All animals suffer pain. 

Flies are animals. 

Therefore they suffer pain. 

Or for negative arguments : 

No lazy children get on. 
This is a lazy child. 
Therefore he will not get on. 



260 JUDGING AND REASONING. 

The essential process here, as in induction, is detect- 
ing similarity or assimilation. We bring a particular case 
(e. g., flies) under the general rule or principle (animal 
suffering) ; and we do this because we recognize identity 
between the particular case and the cases included under 
the general rule. 

While the recognition of likeness is thus the essential 
process in deduction, discrimination plays an important 
subordinate part. In all arguments by which we read 
negative conclusions, we are especially engaged in distin- 
guishing things, qualities, or promises which differ. Thus 
when a parent, reasoning with his child, says, " That boy is 
not a gentleman, for no real gentleman despises the poor," 
he is distinguishing between the genuine marks of a gentle- 
man and those which point to a vulgar, ungentlemanly 
type of mind. 

Application of Principles and Explanations. — 
Deductive reasoning may begin at one of two ends. We 
may have a principle given us and be asked to draw con- 
clusions from it. This is applying a principle, or finding 
out new illustrations of a truth. New discoveries may be 
made by a skillful combining of truths already known. 
Thus, for example, a child, after being told, or having dis- 
covered, that air has weight, and that it is elastic or com- 
pressible, might find out for himself that the lower strata 
must be denser than the higher. In this way the mind is 
able to anticipate observation, and to conclude beforehand 
as to how things will happen. 

On the other hand, we may set out not with a general 
truth, but with a particular fact or statement, and seek for 
some more general truth under which it may be brought. 
This is known as explanation. Explanation, in its sim- 
plest form, is throwing light on a new and unfamiliar fact 
by pointing out its analogy to some familiar fact. This is 
the only explanation possible in the case of young children 
who can not yet grasp general principles. A higher kind 



REASONING A DETECTION OF SIMILARITY. 261 

of explanation is including a particular case under some 
general principle. Thus we explain a natural occurrence, 
as the trade-winds or the rising of water in springs, by re- 
ferring to the known agencies which produce them. Simi- 
larly, we find a reason for a statement by bringing it under 
a more general rule. Thus the teacher justifies some com- 
mand or prohibition, e. g., " cribbing " from another, by 
presenting it as a special case of a more comprehensive 
rule, e. g., unfairness or deceit.* 

Regulated Deduction. — The processes of deductive 
reasoning may lead to a valid or invalid conclusion. It 
is the business of logic to point out what conditions must 
be satisfied in order that a conclusion may be accepted as 
valid. 

Without gofng into the technical details of deductive 
error or fallacy, we may point out that, since reasoning is 
essentially a detection of similarity, the great source of 
erroneous reasoning is confusion of things that are not 
really and fundamentally similar ; in other words, a want 
of discrimination. The bad reasoner can not see where 
similarity ends and difference begins. Among the most 
common errors in deductive argument are those arising 
from the ambiguity of terms. When the mind fails to 
distinguish between different shades of idea attaching to 
the same word, it is exceedingly liable to go astray. 
Thus if it were argued that, since all knowledge is the 
result of self-education, children would be much better 
for being left to themselves, the reasoner might be con- 
victed of confusing two meanings of self-education, viz., 
that of a gifted youth like Pope, who takes his education 
into his own hands, and that which every child can and 
may be expected to carry out under the stimulation and 
guidance of others. Our very eagerness to find a reason 
for a fact may precipitate us into this confusion of ideas, 

* On the different meanings of " explanation," see Jevons's " Ele- 
mentary Lessons in Logic," chap. xxxi. 



262 JUDGING AND REASONING. 

and so into loose reasonings. And any agitation of feel- 
ing, by blunting for a time the discriminative power, is 
greatly favorable to such confusion of thought. 

This liability to confused thinking is furthered by the 
circumstance that, in our processes of reasoning, words 
tend to become the substitutes of clear ideas about things. 
A mind exercised in argument can easily appreciate the 
logical relations between any given propositions without 
going to the trouble of carefully scrutinizing the meaning 
of the terms. Hence, the risk of accepting what is told 
us by others without adequate critical examination of the 
ideas involved. If there is only the appearance of a log- 
ical order in another's statements, we are strongly disposed 
to accept the reasoning as valid. 

Other Forms of Reasoning : Analogy. — In ad- 
dition to induction and deduction it is usual to specify 
other forms of reasoning. Of these the most important 
is known as analogy. When we reason by analogy we 
perceive a certain partial resemblance between things, 
but are unable to detect that perfect identity in essential 
features or circumstances on which induction proceeds. 
Thus it is to reason from analogy to say that, since the 
relation of the mother country to a colony, or of a teacher 
to his pupils, resembles that of a parent to a child, the 
same feelings should be excited in the former as in the 
latter case ; or to argue that, because other planets resem- 
ble our earth in certain respects, they agree with it further 
in the possession of living forms. 

Since there is only a partial resemblance in these 
cases, the conclusion can never have the certainty of a 
proper scientific induction. Hence, this form of reason- 
ing should only be resorted to where the processes of 
induction and deduction are impracticable. The teacher 
has often to illustrate a subject by analogies and parallel 
cases. Mental and moral qualities are to a certain extent 
illumined by analogies with material properties and pro- 



EARL Y JUDGMENTS. 263 

cesses. Not only so, before the child is able to carry out 
the processes of analysis, etc., necessary to induction, he 
is only able to reason from analogy, e. g., an unanalyzed 
perception of resemblance ; and so the educator must 
content himself with partial explanations of Nature's pro- 
cesses based on analogy. The value of such analogical 
reasoning depends on the detection of real as distinguished 
from false points of analogy, and on its being resorted to 
only as a provisional explanation, and a stepping-stone to 
a truly scientific explanation. 

Development of Powers of Judging and Rea- 
soning. — The processes of judging and reasoning in 
their clear and articulate form show themselves later than 
the process of conception. A child a year old will, as we 
have seen, name objects, and form rudimentary notions 
about things, but he can not yet form explicit judgments. 
In the early period of speech we have only rude germs of 
affirmation, as when a child exclaims " Bow-wow ! " (there 
is a dog), or "ot! " (this food is hot), and so forth. An 
interesting variety of these compressed judgments is the 
sign of disappearance (e. g., ta-ta), which, as M. Perez re- 
marks, seems to imply ceasing to exist.* The first ex- 
plicit judgments are concerned with individual objects. 
The child notes something unexpected or surprising in an 
object, and expresses the result of his observation in a 
judgment. Thus, for example, a child, whom we may 
call C, was first observed to frame a distinct judgment 
when nineteen months old, by saying " Dit ki " (sister is 
crying). 

These first judgments have to do mainly with the 
child's food, or other things of supreme practical interest 
to him. Thus, among the earliest attempts at combining 
words in propositions made by C, were the following : 
" Ka in milk " (something nasty in milk) ; " Milk dare 
now " (there is still some milk in the cup). Toward the 

* " First Three Years of Childhood," p. 170. 



264 JUDGING AND REASONING. 

end of the second year the range of discernment shows 
a marked extension, the child coming now to observe and 
remark on anything new or striking in the objects that 
present themselves, such as unusual size, position, etc. 
Thus, at this date, C was observed to exclaim '' Dat a big 
wow- wow " (that is a large dog) ; " Dit naughty " (sister is 
naughty) ; " Dit gow ga " (sister is down on the grass). 
As the observing powers grow, and the child's interest in 
things widens, the number of his judgments increases. 
And as his powers of comparing objects and detecting 
their relations develop, his judgments gradually take on a 
more penetrating character. This progress in affirming is 
of course dependent on the advance of the child in the 
command of words, and the constructive skill necessary 
to framing sentences. The transition to more elaborate 
statements shows itself by the end of the second year in 
tentatives of this type : " Mama naughty say dat." 

An interesting phase of this early stage of the growth 
of judgment is the acquisition of the signs of negation, 
" no," " not." The first sign of negation is a shake of the 
head ; but this is used as a mark rather of unwillingness or 
disinclination than of logical rejection. C did not make 
a distinct negative statement till well on in his third 
year. 

The employment of the sign " no " presupposes a 
knowledge of two alternatives (truth and falsity.) It is 
greatly aided by the habitual employment of questions. 
A question when understood brings home to the mind 
two opposed and mutually exclusive statements. The 
way in which the negative particles are first used is very 
instructive. C (early in his third year) was in the habit 
of framing a statement and then appending the sign of 
negation thus : " N [his name for himself] go in water — 
no." It was observed, further, in the case of two chil- 
dren, that during the third year they were apt to couple 
affirmative and negative statements, e. g., " This I's cup, 



DEVELOPMENT OF THE JUDGMENT. 265 

not mama's cup " ; " This a nice bow-wow, not nasty- 
bow-wow." This suggests that a child, when he first 
begins to understand the meaning of a negation, feels im- 
pelled, when making an affirmation, to set forth explicitly 
the negation implied. 

As intelligence develops, the child's sphere for judging 
is gradually widened. The exercise of imagination opens 
up to him many new subjects to judge about, e. g., the 
ways of men and animals. At the same time, the accumu- 
lation of the fruits of his own experience supplies him 
with fuller means of judging about things. Not only so, 
he now becomes capable of judging not only about par- 
ticular objects, but about classes. Thus he picks up and 
repeats the general statements made by those about him, 
as, for example, " Naughty children play with the dirt." 
The extension of the vocabulary and the progress of ab- 
straction and conception gradually lead to a more abstract 
type of judgment. 

The growth of the power of judging is marked by an 
increase of a cautious and critical spirit in relation to 
affirmation. Things and their relations are more firmly 
discriminated, and as a consequence are described more 
clearly and minutely. Again, the tendencies to exaggera- 
tion and misstatement due to the influence of feeling (e. g., 
the desire to astonish or amuse) are gradually checked, and 
so the judgments gain in point of accuracy or fidelity of 
representation. Along with these changes, we may note 
that the child's tendency to give reality to the produc- 
tions of fancy is brought under restraint. By the aid of 
his growing experience he is able to fashion a rudiment- 
ary standard of what is possible and impossible, probable 
and improbable ; and as a result of this he becomes more 
cautious in making assertions. Finally, this progress in 
critical discernment shows itself in examining and reject- 
ing what is unconnected with what he already knows. 
The approach of the close of childhood is appropriately 



266 JUDGING AND REASONING. 

marked by a considerable increase of independence in 
judging about things. 

Growth of Reasoning Power. — In close connec- 
tion with this progress in judging there goes on the devel- 
opment of the power of inferring or drawing conclusions. 
At first, as observed, the process is implicit, from particu- 
lars to particulars, from one fact or situation to another 
more or less like it. The first exercise of the power is 
seen in doing things, in adopting means to ends by the 
help of analogies, with previous experience. Thus the 
first distinct trace of a reasoning operation in the case of C 
appeared when he was seventeen months old. He asked 
for bread and butter (which he called " bup "). Not being 
immediately attended to, he stretched out his hand toward 
the bread-knife lying on the table, still repeating the 
sound. This action of pointing was manifestly an exten- 
sion to a new case of the known results of pointing, and 
moreover implied the recognition of a relation between 
the knife and the satisfaction of his want. A more ad- 
vanced step was noted at the end of the twenty-first 
month. His father told him not to eat some brown sugar 
which he was taking out of a bag. He answered promptly 
and emphatically " Ni ! " This was clearly finding a 
reason by way of justification, " I eat it because it is 
nice." 

First Reasonings about Cause. — As already ob- 
served, the child's first reasonings about cause are very 
crude. He snatches from his past experience any analo- 
gous case in order to explain the happening of things. 
This leads to an anthropomorphic interpretation of events. 
For example, C in his twenty-fourth month found a peb- 
ble in his box of bricks. His mother asked him what it 
was doing there, and he replied, " Wa pay bricks." * 

* That is, " Wants to play bricks." In justice to C, it must be 
added that he instantly went on to reflect. Looking at the pebble, he 
sagely observed, " No ands " (" It has no hands "). 



EARLY REASONINGS ABOUT CAUSE. 267 

Early in his third year he got into the way of asking who 
made this and that thing. He argued that everything 
imperfect, such as a flower without a stem, could be 
"mended." Again, noticing pips in an orange, he asked, 
" Who put pips there — cook ? " 

By the end of the third year a child is wont to perplex 
his mother by asking the "why "of everything. This is 
an important moment, as indicating the development of a 
vague general idea that things have their causes and rea- 
sons, and are capable of being explained. But the type 
of causation is still anthropomorphic. He looks at things 
as occurring for a purpose, and can only understand them 
in so far as they present some analogy to his own pur- 
posive actions. 

As the child's mind develops, he shows greater power 
in examining what he sees, analyzing it into its constitu- 
ent parts, and comparing his experiences one with another. 
In this way wider inductions and truths of a more abstract 
character are gradually arrived at. At the same time, his 
power of discriminating things progresses, and leads to a 
more careful discernment of the elements of his experi- 
ences, and so to greater caution in making general state- 
ments. Thus children from about the end of the fourth 
year may often be observed to use the expressions, " Some 
persons," " Many persons," " generally," and so forth.* It 
is by the same progress in discriminative power that the 
regions of natural events and conscious action are gradu- 
ally distinguished one from another, though the completion 
of this distinction probably falls toward the end of child- 
hood, if not later.f 

The same line of remark applies to the progress of 
deductive reasoning. A boy of three or four will apply a 
simple rule to a particular example. But such applica- 

* See a good instance given by M. Perez, ibid., p. 177. 
f A girl aged five years nine months once asked her mother, 
"What makes the wind, mama? Is it a great big fan somewhere?" 



268 JUDGING AND REASONING. 

tions are of the most obvious kind. To recognize that a 
thing is heavy, and so capable of hurting, or that pulling 
flies to pieces is cruel, and so wrong, demands but little 
power of tracing out similarity in the midst of difference. 
The growth of reasoning power manifests itself in dis- 
covering the less obvious applications of a rule or prin- 
ciple, as that it is cruel to deceive another. This is the 
result of many exercises of the faculty. As the child's 
stock of general truths increases, he will find more and 
more scope for exercising his reasoning powers in drawing 
conclusions from them. A boy of five or six delights to 
apply the truths he knows by way of accounting for what 
he sees. Later on, after his powers of deductive reason- 
ing have been thus strengthened in these comparatively 
simple exercises, he will be able to perform the more pro- 
longed and difficult feats of argument, such as working 
out a demonstration in Euclid. 

Varieties of Power of Judging and Reasoning. 
— There are well-marked differences among individuals in 
respect of their ability to judge and to reason about things. 
Thus one person can more readily compare any given 
material, part with part, and decide on the particular 
point raised. In the uncertain region of opinion, as dis- 
tinguished from that of demonstrable truth, individuals 
display a surprising amount of difference in the way in 
which they judge.* So, too, we remark differences in 
people's ability to reason about things. Thus of two men 
face to face with the same group of facts, one will leap 
quickly to the general law or principle underlying them, 
while another will fail to detect it. Similarly, one man 
much more readily brings new facts under old truths than 
another. 

These differences, like those in the case of the other 

* This fact is satirized by Pope in the lines — 

" 'Tis with our judgments as our watches ; none 
Go just alike, yet each believes his own." 



DIFFERENT TYPES OF MIND. 269 

faculties, are general or special. A may have a better 
faculty of judging on various sorts of matter than B ; or, 
as commonly happens, he will show a marked superiority 
in a certain domain, e. g., practical matters, matters of 
taste, and so forth. In like manner, A may be a better 
all-round reasoner than B, or show his superiority in some 
special direction. Thus there is the "inductive mind," 
quick in the observation and analysis of facts, and delight- 
ing to trace out the laws of phenomena, the type of the 
physical inquirer. On the other hand, there is the de- 
ductive or demonstrative mind, given to dwelling on 
abstract truths rather than on concrete facts, and skillful 
in combining these into an orderly argument, the type 
of the mathematician. Not only so, excellence of rea- 
soning power commonly displays itself in relation to 
some particular kind of subject-matter, as the domain 
of human action and history, geometry, or the science 
of physics. These differences, like other intellectual 
inequalities, turn partly on inequalities of native apti- 
tude, and partly on differences in circumstances and 
education. 

The power of judging well presupposes a native ability 
to dissect a subject-matter, compare, discriminate, and so 
forth. But it is a power that receives much of its peculiar 
character from experience and education. Judging is the 
outcome of experience, and will vary as this. Not only 
so, a ripe power of judgment in any region of experience 
presupposes special exercise in that domain. To judge 
on a doubtful point in a classification of plants implies 
the trained botanist's faculty. Similarly, in the case of 
the ability to reason well. Individuals are not at the out- 
set equally endowed with the powers of abstraction, of 
tracing similarity veiled under superficial difference, nec- 
essary to reasoning. But the special direction of the 
reasoning faculty depends largely on special practice. A 
boy of an active and mechanical turn, given to observing 



270 JUDGING AND REASONING. 

the action of Nature's forces, will tend to become a pro- 
ficient reasoner in that domain.* 

Training the Faculty of Judgment. — The train- 
ing of a child's power of judging begins in close connec- 
tion with the exercise of the observing powers. He 
should be encouraged to compare the size and shape of 
objects, to note the signs of distance, and so forth. f He 
should then be induced to express the results of his obser- 
vations in words, to describe the object he has seen, to 
narrate something which has happened to him. As sup- 
plementary to this, he should be exercised in repeating 
carefully what he has heard, and in accepting and reject- 
ing propositions. Here the parent or teacher should aim 
at caution in judgment. The natural propensity to accept 
as certain what chimes in with our wishes and inclinations 
should be checked. J In close connection with this the 
child should be exercised in accuracy of statement. The 
natural tendency of the young to exaggerate needs to be 
carefully watched and counteracted. The child should be 
accustomed to think well about the words he uses, to see 
all that is implied in them, as well as all that is contra- 
dicted by them. By such exercises he will be led to reflect 
on his own mental operations, and so to give greater pre- 
cision to his thoughts.* And here a knowledge of the 
logical processes, relations of propositions included under 
the term " opposition," and also of the processes of ob- 
version and conversion, will prove serviceable to the 

* The effect of practice or habit in improving the reasoning power 
in special directions is well- shown by Locke. (" Of the Conduct of the 
Understanding," sec. 6, pp. 20, 21.) 

\ See Miss Edgevvorth, " Practical Education," iii, p. 196. 

^"That point of self-education which consists in teaching the 
mind to resist its desires and inclinations, until they are proved to be 
right, is the most important of all." (Prof. Faraday.) 

* " L'enfant qui s'attache a bien choisir un terme, connait et juge 
la pensee qu'il veut exprimer ; il y a en lui ce retour de l'intelligence 
sur clle-meme qui constitue la reflexion." (Madame Necker.) 



LIMITATION OF JUDGMENTS. 2 JI 

teacher.* At the same time, this regulation of judgment 
is a matter of some delicacy. Children delight in vivid 
and picturesque statement, and a touch of exaggeration is 
perhaps pardonable. A too strict insistence on precision 
in the early stages may easily discourage confidence, and 
lead to an untimely hesitation in judgment. 

A perplexing problem in the training of the judgment 
is to draw the line between excessive individual independ- 
ence and undue deference to authority. The power of 
judging is, as we have seen, more fully exercised when the 
child forms an opinion for himself than when he passively 
receives one from his mother or teacher. To exercise the 
judgment is thus to draw out his power of judging for him- 
self. And this can be very well done in certain regions 
of observation, as, for example, in judging about the beauty 
of natural objects and works of art. On the other hand, 
it is obvious that, with respect to other matters, the child's 
liberty of judging must be curtailed. It would not do to 
allow a young child, with his limited experience, to decide 
what is possible or probable in a situation of any complex- 
ity, and still less to permit him to pronounce on the Tight- 
ness or wrongness of an action. To combine the ends of 
authority and of individuality in respect of judging re- 
quires much wisdom and skill in the trainer of the young. 
Differences of children's temperament must here be taken 
account of. An indolent, timid child, wanting in self- 
reliance, and disposed to rely on others to excess, requires 
another regime from that suitable to an over-confident 
child. 

As the intelligence develops, greater scope should be 
given the child for the exercise of his judgment. Thus, by 
widening the sphere of his free activity, the parent calls 
forth his practical judgment. An important region for 

* The subject of obversion, by which every affimative proposition 
may be expressed as a negative one, and vice versa, is dealt with by 
Dr. Bain. ("Logic," "Deduction," bk. i, chap, iii.) 



272 JUDGING AND REASONING. 

the unfettered play of the faculty is that of matters of taste. 
The child should be encouraged to judge for himself what 
is pretty, and so forth. The power of deciding on doubt- 
ful matters of motive, wisdom, and testimony may be ex- 
ercised by an intelligent study of history. Here, too, there 
is scope for the exercise of the moral judgment. Finally, 
the study of literature exercises in a special way the critical 
or aesthetic judgment. 

Training of the Reasoning Powers.— The work 
of training the young in careful processes of reasoning 
must go on hand in hand with the development of his 
power of judgment. In the earliest stage (from about the 
beginning of the fourth year) the mother is called on to 
satisfy the child's curiosity or desire for explanation. This 
period is an important one for the subsequent development 
of the child. Parents are apt to think that children not 
infrequently put questions in a half-mechanical way, with- 
out any real desire for an explanation, and even for the 
sake of teasing. This view, however, as we shall see later 
on, is probably erroneous. Children are no doubt capri- 
cious in their questionings ; their curiosity is restricted in 
its range, and momentary in its duration. Still, their ques- 
tionings may in general be accepted as expressing at least 
a passing desire for knowledge. And, so far as this is the 
case, it is well to heed and satisfy them so far as may be. 
It seems a good rule to give an explanation wherever the 
nature of the subject allows of a simple one. This is 
Locke's advice, " Encourage his inquisitiveness all you can, 
by satisfying his demands and informing his judgment, as 
far as it is capable " (" Some Thoughts concerning Educa- 
tion," § 122). 

At the same time, the educator should take care in an- 
swering children's questions not to indulge them in intel- 
lectual indolence and weak dependence on others. They 
should be stimulated to find out to some extent for them- 
selves the reasons of things. " A word or two," writes 



LIMITATION OF REASONING. 



273 



Madame Necker, " in order to put him on the way, often 
in order to make him discover that by thinking well about 
the matter he might have been able to assure himself, these 
words, I say, will be seeds which will fructify with time." 

In some cases, no doubt, children's questions are apt 
to be very awkward, and even unanswerable. Thus a little 
girl of four and a half years once drove her mother to one 
of the most difficult problems of philosophy — thus: She 
sees a wasp on the window-pane, and wants to touch it. 
Her mother says, "No, you must not ; it will sting you." 
Child : " Why doesn't it sting the glass ? " Mother: "Be- 
cause it can't feel." Child: "Why doesn't it feel?" 
Mother: "Because it has no nerves." Child: "Why do 
nerves feel?" The young must be accustomed to the 
idea that there are many things that they can not yet un- 
derstand, and be exercised in taking some truths on trust, 
and not insisting on knowing the " why " of everything. 
George Eliot says somewhere, " Reason about everything 
with your child, you make him a monster, without rever- 
ence, without affections." 

But the training of the reasoning powers includes more 
than the answering of the spontaneous questionings of 
children. The learners must be questioned in their turn 
as to the reasons of things, and the causes of what they see 
happening about them. A question sets a child thinking, 
raises a new problem in his mind, and so stimulates his 
powers of thought. Not only so, the asking the why and 
wherefore of things helps to familiarize the child's mind 
with the truth that everything has its cause and its explana- 
tion. The parent or teacher should aim at fixing a habit 
of inquiry in the young mind by repeatedly directing his 
attention to occurrences, and encouraging him to find out 
how they take place. Here, of course, great discernment 
must be shown in selecting problems which the child's 
previous knowledge will enable him to grapple with. This 
exercise of the child's mind, in discovering the reasons of 



274 JUDGING AND REASONING. 

things, involves a method, training in orderly recollection ; 
in going back to his past experiences to search for fruitful 
analogies, and to his acquired principles for the true ex- 
planation. 

The systematic training of the reasoning powers must 
aim at avoiding the errors incident to the processes of in- 
duction and deduction. Thus children need to be warned 
against hasty induction, against taking a mere accidental 
accompaniment for a condition or cause, and overlooking 
the fact that one result may have a plurality of causes. 
This systematic guidance of the child's inductive processes 
will be much better carried on by one who has studied the 
rules of inductive logic. In like manner the teacher 
should seek to direct the young reasoner in drawing conclu- 
sions from principles, by pointing out to him the limits of 
a rule, by helping him to distinguish between the cases 
that do and those that do not fall under it, and by famil- 
iarizing him with the dangers that lurk in ambiguous lan- 
guage. And here some knowledge of the rules of deduct- 
ive logic will be found helpful. 

Subjects which exercise the Reasoning Fac- 
ulty. — The training of the reasoning faculty should 
be commenced by the mother and the elementary teacher 
in connection with the acquisition of common every-day 
knowledge about things. Its completion, however, belongs 
to the later stage of methodical school instruction. There 
is no subject of study which may not in the hands of an 
intelligent and efficient teacher be made helpful to this re- 
sult. Thus the study of physical geography should be 
made the occasion for exercising the child in reasoning as 
to the causes of natural phenomena. History, again, when 
well taught, may be made to bring out the learner's pow- 
ers of tracing analogies, of discovering the causes and 
effects of human action, and deducing particular results 
from well-ascertained principles. 

The teaching of science is, however, the great agency 



INDUCTIVE AND DEDUCTIVE SCIENCE. 275 

for strengthening and developing the reasoning powers. 
Science is general knowledge expressed as precisely as 
possible, and the study of it serves to give accuracy to all 
the thinking processes. Science is further an orderly ar- 
rangement of knowledge according to its dependence. It 
sets out with principles gained by induction, and then pro- 
ceeds in a systematic way to trace out deductively the conse- 
quences of these principles. It thus serves to train the 
reasoning powers in an orderly and methodical way of pro- 
ceeding. 

Some sciences exhibit more of the inductive process, 
others more of the deductive. The physical sciences are 
all, to some extent, inductive, resorting largely to observa- 
tion, experiment, and proof of law by fact. And some of 
these, as, for example, chemistry and physiology, are mainly 
inductive. In these the inquirer is largely concerned with 
observing and analyzing phenomena and arriving at their 
laws. Hence they provide the best training of the mind 
in the patient and accurate investigation of facts, and the 
cautious building up of general truths on a firm basis of 
actual observation. On the other hand, the mathematical 
sciences are almost entirely deductive. Here the princi- 
ples, being simple and self-evident, are stated at the outset 
in the shape of axioms, etc.; and the development of the 
science proceeds by combining these principles in ever 
new ways, and arriving at fresh results by a process of rig- 
orous deduction. This process of demonstration, which 
shows how the conclusions necessarily follow from the prin- 
ciples, is an exercise of the logical faculty of very peculiar 
value. Hence mathematics has commonly been held up as 
the best instrument for disciplining the mind in exactness 
and consistency of thought. 

Method in Teaching. — All sciences as they progress 
tend to grow deductive, that is to say, deduction plays a 
larger and larger part in them. This is illustrated in the 
growing application of mathematics or the science of quan- 



276 JUDGING AND REASONING. 

tity to the physical sciences, chemistry, etc. Here the 
laws reached by induction are set forth at the outset as 
the first principles of the science, from which the explana- 
tion of particular phenomena is deduced. In these cases, 
then, we see the proper order of expounding a subject, 
when the knowledge of it is complete, deviates from the 
natural order of arriving at knowledge by the individual 
mind when left to itself. In other words, the " method of 
instruction " is not necessarily the same as the "method 
of discovery."* Since the teacher represents the results 
of all past investigations, he may start with the principles 
reached last of all in the actual history of human discovery, 
and set forth the consequence of these. At the same time, 
the natural order of discovery ought never to be lost sight 
of. In some cases, as in teaching the rules of grammar, it 
may be desirable to proceed according to an " inductive 
method," i. e., leading the pupil up from an inspection of 
words in actual use to a comprehension of the laws that 
govern their use. And in no cases ought principles to be 
taught before some examples are given. It is now admitted 
that the elementary principles of number, or the simple 
propositions of arithmetic, are best taught by means of an 
inductive operation carried out on concrete examples of 
number. Not only so, even such " self-evident " truths as 
the axioms of geometry require, as mathematical teachers 
are well aware, a certain amount of concrete illustration. 
So obvious a principle as that if equals be added to equals 
the wholes are equal should be illustrated and firmly 
grasped by aid of concrete examples. The words of 
Seneca in reference to practical training apply to theoretic 
instruction also : 

" Longum iter est per praecepta : 
Breve et efficax per exempla." 

Thus, in every case, the right method of teaching a sub- 
* See Jevons's " Elementary Lessons in Logic," lesson xxiv. 



METHOD IN TEACHING. 277 

ject proceeds to some extent according to the order of 
discovery. 

The full consideration of the subject of method does not belong 
here. The broad distinction between induction and deduction only 
enables us to deal with it in part. Another important logical distinc- 
tion bearing on the problem is that of analysis and synthesis. In the 
first we set out with the complex and resolve it into its simpler parts ; 
in the second we reverse the problem, and, starting with the simple, 
build up the complex. The distinction is to some extent parallel to 
that between induction and deduction. In observing facts and arriv- 
ing at the common principles that underlie them, we resort to analysis. 
On the other hand, in reasoning deductively, as in Euclid, we proceed 
synthetically by combining elementary facts and principles. There is 
often a choice between proceeding analytically or synthetically, e. g., in 
teaching a new language. 

Closely connected with the subject of method, or the best way of 
teaching a single subject, is that of the best order of dealing with the 
different subjects of teaching. This is broadly determined by psycho- 
logical principles, the laws of the growth of faculty. Psychology tells 
us that subjects appealing mainly to memory and imagination (e. g., 
geography and history) should precede subjects exercising the reason- 
ing powers (mathematics, physical science). This fixes what has been 
called the psychological order. But within these broad limits the 
special arrangement to be followed has to be determined by logical 
considerations. That is to say, we have to consider the relative sim- 
plicity of the subjects, and the dependence of one subject on another. 
This gives us the logical order. By such considerations we arrive, for 
example, at the rule, that some knowledge of mathematics must pre- 
cede the study of physics ; that some knowledge of mechanics, chem- 
istry, etc., must precede the study of physiology, and so forth.* 

APPENDIX. 
On the training of the faculty of judging and reasoning, the student 
should read Locke's little work, " Conduct of the Understanding " (ed. 
by Prof. T. Eowler) ; Miss Edgeworth, "Practical Education," chap. 

* In connection with this subject, the reader should read Prof. Bain, 
"Education as a Science." chap, vi, "Sequence of Subjects — Psycho- 
logical," chap, vii, " Sequence of Subjects — Logical " ; also the classifi- 
cation of the sciences according to their degree of abstraction^ by Mr. 
Herbert Spencer. 



278 JUDGING AND REASONING. 

xxiii. He should further master the elements of deductive and induct- 
ive logic as expounded in such a work as Prof. Jevons's " Elementary 
Lessons." Finally, on the application of logic to educational method, 
the student may consult Bain, "Education as a Science," chaps, vii 
and viii ; Fitch, " Lectures on Teaching," chap, ix and following ; Th. 
Waitz, "Allgemeine Paedagogik," § 22. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

THE FEELINGS : NATURE OF FEELING. 

Having now briefly reviewed the growth of intellect, 
we may pass on to trace the second great phase of mental 
development, the growth of the feelings. 

Feeling defined. — The term " feeling " marks off those 
mental states which are pleasurable or painful. These 
may be immediately connected with bodily conditions, as 
the sensations of hunger, or may accompany some form 
of mental activity, as the emotions of hope or remorse. 
While all feeling has the characteristic of being pleasur- 
able or painful, agreeable or disagreeable, in some de- 
gree, there are many feelings which are of a mixed char- 
acter, such as the bodily feeling of tickling and the mental 
feeling of grief at the loss of a friend. Feelings exhibit 
all degrees of intensity, from the quiet current of satisfac- 
tion which attends the consciousness of doing right, up to 
the violent excitement of a transporting joy. 

The feelings constitute a distinct, well-marked phase 
or division of mind. Our pleasures and pains make up 
the interesting side of our experience. The objects of the 
external world only have a value for us in so far as they 
affect our sensibilities or touch our feelings. Since the 
feelings are the elements of happiness and its opposite, 
the study of them is an important part of the science of 
well-being. 

But feeling is not merely a subject of great importance 



280 THE FEELINGS: NATURE OF FEELING. 

in itself : it stands in certain relations to the other two 
sides of mind. On the one side, it is connected with the 
exercise and development of the intellect. Although 
feeling, in its more violent forms, opposes itself to intel- 
lectual activity, in its more moderate degrees it supplies 
the interest which quickens and rouses the faculties. The 
culture of intelligence is accordingly limited by the devel- 
opment of the feelings. Conversely, the cultivation of the 
intellect promotes the growth of all the higher and more 
refined feelings, as the sense of beauty, truth, etc. In this 
way the development of knowing and feeling are closely 
connected and intertwined. 

On the other side, feeling stands in intimate connec- 
tion with action and will. It supplies the stimulus or 
motive force which excites the will to action. The incen- 
tives or motives which urge us to do things are the im- 
mediate products of the several emotional sensibilities. 
The habitual directions of conduct follow the lead of the 
dominant feelings. 

The Diffusion and Effects of Feeling 1 . — Every 
feeling is a mode of mental excitement, and as such has 
a certain tendency to persist and to master the mind. 
All our stronger feelings, when fully excited, have a 
gradual rise and subsidence, the stages of which we can 
easily trace. A child carried away by hilarious excite- 
ment or angry passion shows this course of gradual rise 
and fall, expansion and contraction. When the current 
of feeling is thus allowed to rise and swell, as in all forms 
of passionate excitement, well-marked effects, both mental 
and bodily, are observable. Strong and violent feeling 
agitates the mind, weakens and often paralyzes the power 
of voluntary or selective attention, and disturbs the nor- 
mal flow of the thoughts. Thus a child in a passion of 
grief or anger is overwhelmed with the agitation, and 
unable to reflect and to judge. The force of the emo- 
tional excitement keeps whatever ideas are congruous 



FEELING WARPS THE INTELLECT. 28 1 

with the feeling and fitted to sustain it vividly before the 
mind, and excludes others. Thus the mind of the angry- 
child is dominated by the idea of some real or fancied 
injury, and can not view impartially all the facts of the 
case. And even less agitating forms of feeling show the 
same effect on the mind in a less striking degree, by caus- 
ing it to dwell too much on certain aspects of a subject, 
and so to form a one-sided and biased view of the 
matter. 

The clear understanding of this effect of feeling in 
warping the intellectual mechanism is of the greatest con- 
sequence to the teacher. Illustrations of it have already 
been given in connection with the training of the imagina- 
tion and of the judgment. The teacher who aims at free- 
ing the child's mind from prejudice, and rendering its 
intellectual processes orderly and steady, must be on the 
watch for this disturbing action of the insidious forces of 
emotion. Even good feelings, as pity for one in adversity, 
if allowed to gain the ascendancy in the mind, are apt to 
obscure the intellectual vision. The well-known effect of 
strong commiseration for an individual in rendering per- 
sons unjust in their judgments is explained by this circum- 
stance. The excessive indulgence in compassion unduly 
narrows the field of mental vision, shutting out from view 
much that is relevant and necessary to a fair estimate of 
the action as a whole. 

Along with these mental disturbances, there are im- 
portant physical or bodily effects of feeling. The close 
connection between mind and body is nowhere more 
plainly illustrated than in the immediate physical effects 
of states of feeling. All emotional excitement radiates, 
so to speak, over the organism, bringing about great 
changes in the vital processes (action of the heart, respira- 
tion, etc.), and throwing the muscles into violent activity. 
A severe shock, whether of grief or of joy, has been known 
to produce serious physical results ; from all which it is 



282 THE FEELINGS: NATURE OF FEELING. 

evident that the due control and repression of violent feel- 
ing of all kinds is a matter of great educational impor- 
tance, as well in the interests of the child's physical well- 
being as in those of his moral well-being. 

In addition to these physical accompaniments of vio- 
lent feeling or passion, there are the characteristic bodily 
accompaniments of our ordinary feelings, including those 
external manifestations which are commonly called expres- 
sion, facial movements, gestures, modifications of vocal 
utterance, changes in circulation leading to pallor, and so 
on. Pleasure and pain have their distinct manifestations, 
as the look of joy, the elated attitude of body, and the 
look of sadness and depression. And the same applies to 
some extent to the several kinds of pleasurable or painful 
feeling, as anger, fear, and love. So close is this connec- 
tion between the feeling and its bodily manifestation that 
the adoption of the external signs of an emotion (look, 
gesture, etc.) may often suffice to induce a certain strength 
of the corresponding feeling. This is illustrated in the 
workings of sympathy, which appears to begin with the 
imitation of the external signs of feeling, e. g., the facial 
signs and vocal effects of grief. 

The understanding of the bodily manifestations of feel- 
ing is of great educational importance. Children may to 
some extent be encouraged to adopt a feeling by assuming 
its external expression. On the other hand, a feeling may 
often be repressed, partially or entirely, by controlling its 
bodily manifestations. 

Further, the ability to read and interpret the effects 
and expression of feeling is of great importance for the 
accurate observation of the emotions of children. The 
feelings of the young, who, as a rule, not having yet learned 
the art of self-control and disguise, are very frank in ex- 
pressing their emotional states, can be very fairly estimated 
by means of their external manifestations. By such ob- 
servation we may readily compare one child with another 



CONTRASTED MODES OF FEELING. 283 

in respect of the intensity of a particular feeling, say pity, 
or remorse, or may inquire into more general differences, 
as liveliness and quickness of emotion as a whole. By 
such means we may gain a clearer insight into the pecul- 
iarities of a child's emotional temperament, and so be in a 
much better position to deal with it for intellectual and 
moral purposes. 

Pleasure and Pain. — The two strongly contrasted 
modes of feeling, pleasure and pain, have their conditions 
or causes, the knowledge of which is of great importance, 
both by way of securing the happiness of the young, and 
of working on their active impulses. 

Pleasure is the accompaniment of the moderate and 
suitable activity of some organ or faculty of the mind. 
Moderate stimulation of the palate, of the higher senses, of 
the muscular energies, and of the mental faculties, is at- 
tended by a sense of enjoyment. 

When, however, the stimulation passes a certain limit, 
the pleasurable effect diminishes and rapidly passes into 
a distinctly painful effect. Thus, when the light of the 
rising sun exceeds a certain intensity, the eye is fatigued 
or " blinded " ; similarly, violent muscular exercise or a 
severe strain of the mental powers is disagreeable and fa- 
tiguing. 

Again, pain may be occasioned by the want of an ap- 
propriate stimulus. Examples of this are to be found in 
the restlessness and uneasiness of an active boy who can 
not indulge in muscular activity, and in the mental condi- 
tion known as tedium, ennui, dullness, which is induced by 
the absence of wholesome mental occupation. In a some- 
what similar way pain is occasioned by all obstructions to 
activity. A feeling of inability to lift a weight or find a 
reason for a thing is disagreeable. 

It appears to follow that pleasurable activity lies be- 
tween two extremes, excessive or strained exercise on the 
one hand, and defective or impeded exercise on the other. 



284 THE FEELINGS: NATURE OF FEELING. 

The terms moderate, excessive, and defective are here 
relative to the natural strength and the acquired habits of 
the organ or faculty. A boy with well-developed muscles 
needs more exercise than another. So a strong and active 
brain requires more to think about. 

Effects of Pleasure and Pain. — The suitable and 
moderate activity of an organ is beneficial to that organ 
and furthers its permanent efficiency. On the other hand, 
unsuitable and excessive activity injures the organ and 
impairs its future efficiency. We may say, then, that 
pleasure furthers, whereas pain obstructs, a healthy, effi- 
cient state of the organ concerned. Not only so, since the 
several organs of the body stand in the closest relation 
one to another, the state of any one necessarily affects 
that of the others. As pointed out in an earlier chapter, 
the over-stimulation of the brain tends to impair the func- 
tions of the bodily organs. On the other hand, a flow of 
happy mental activity conduces to the perfect discharge 
of these functions. In this way all pleasurable states, 
when not carried to the point of boisterous and exhaust- 
ing excitement, have an exhilarating effect on the whole 
organism, expediting the processes of digestion, respira- 
tion, and so forth. And conversely, painful states have a 
depressing and lowering effect on the organism as a whole. 
Intense grief or terror involves a hurtful drain on the 
nervous energies, impeding the action of the heart, etc., 
and diminishing muscular power. 

The educational bearings of these principles are appar- 
ent. The ends of intellectual training dictate the same 
rule as those of humanitarianism : Make school-work as 
pleasant as possible. The best kind of intellectual activity 
is that attended by a flow of pleasurable emotion. Such 
pleasure is at once a sign that the activity is normal and 
right, and a guarantee of prolonged and fruitful activity. 
One of the greatest gains of modern educational reform is 
the clear enunciation of the principle that learning, in the 



STUDY SHOULD BE PLEASURABLE. 285 

true and complete sense, is only possible when the sense 
of irksomeness and drudgery gives place to a pleasant 
consciousness of free and natural movement. 

This rule does not mean that the teacher should be 
always aiming at the more intense forms of delight. 
Such an end is unattainable, and is moreover undesirable. 
Moderate and quiet enjoyment is that which best com- 
ports with the calm mental attitude of thinking. Nor 
does the rule exclude all that is disagreeable. The 
learner must encounter difficulties, and it is well that he 
should. The occasional sense of a teasing difficulty, of 
foolish negligence, and so forth, is needed to screw up 
the faculties to their highest degree of tension. But such 
occasional rebuffs need not interfere with the general 
pleasurableness of study. So far from this, the very 
temporary annoyance may, by becoming the starting- 
point for a fuller exertion of the mental powers, subserve 
a deeper enjoyment in the end. 

Monotony and Change. — Our feelings of pleasure 
and pain are governed by the law of change or contrast 
of mental state already referred to. A cause of pleasure, 
if it remains unchanged, tends to lose its effect. Pro- 
longed bodily activity loses the first delightful sense of 
freshness. On the other hand, change of activity is a 
known cause of enjoyment. Variatio delectat. The tran- 
sition from the school-room to the play-ground, from the 
holidays to the work of the school, from town to country, 
and so on, is exhilarating. The delights of novelty are 
only a more striking illustration of the same principle. 

A like result shows itself in the case of prolonged 
causes of pain. A patient suffers less from prolonged 
bodily pain (supposing the cause not to increase), and we 
all suffer less from enduring worries and troubles when 
we " get used " to them. What is known as the deaden- 
ing of the more delicate modes of sensibility illustrates 
the same principle. Thus a child's sense of shame is 



286 THE FEELINGS: NATURE OF FEELING. 

dulled by a too frequent wounding of the feeling by 
humiliating words, ridicule, etc. The horror at the sight 
of pain, death, etc., is blunted by familiarity. As Hamlet 
says, apropos of the grave-digger who sings over his work : 
" The hand of little employment hath the daintier sense." 

Accommodation to Surroundings. — The effect of 
prolonging the causes of pleasure and pain in diminishing 
the intensity of the feeling evidently implies a change in 
the condition of the organ concerned. There is a process 
of adjustment or accommodation of the organism to its 
surroundings. 

A striking example of this power of self-adjustment is 
seen in the fact that a stimulus which at first is distinctly 
disagreeable may in time become not only indifferent but 
positively pleasurable. This is illustrated in the acquired 
likings of the palate, the fondness for alcoholic drinks, 
bitter condiments, and so on. Another illustration is seen 
in the effects of exercising an organ or faculty. The 
growth that results from a regular periodic exercise of 
muscle or brain implies an accommodation of the organ 
to a greater strength of stimulus, so that an amount of ex- 
ercise which was at first excessive and painful becomes 
enjoyable. 

One other effect of the prolongation or frequent re- 
newal of stimulation remains to be touched on. What is 
customary, though it loses the first fresh charm, becomes 
endeared by habit, so that when deprived of it we suffer. 
It is owing to this principle that a child is fixed in certain 
definite lines of bodily and mental activity. He finds a 
quiet satisfaction in going through the round of tasks, etc., 
he is accustomed to, and resents any interruption of the 
customary order. 

The craving for change and the clinging to what is 
customary are the two great opposed principles of our 
emotional experience. A certain amount of variety and 
novelty is necessary to prolonged enjoyment. Yet if the 



NEED OF NOVELTY AND VARIETY. 287 

change from the old to the new is great and abrupt there 
arises the painful sense of loss. In early life the law of 
change is the dominant one. Children delight in new im- 
pressions, and crave for the excitement of change. As a 
rule, too, they soon forget old friends and surroundings, 
and know little of longings for what is past. This means 
that they are in the plastic state of youth, in which the 
mind easily adapts itself to the new, and is but little 
bound by the ties of habit. But the love of change in its 
more intense form is a mark of a particular temperament, 
and children exhibit considerable differences in this re- 
spect. Timid, clinging natures much more readily attach 
themselves to their customary surroundings, and feel a 
new environment to be strange and discordant. As a rule, 
boys with their active adventurous nature are more under 
the dominion of novelty than girls. 

The principles of change and habituation in relation to 
the feelings have important educational applications. A 
recent writer has said that " monotony is the greatest 
enemy a teacher has to deal with." * However this be, it 
is certain that the most effective way to divest learning of 
all irksomeness is to introduce as much novelty and variety 
as possible, both in the materials presented and in the 
manner of presenting them. At the same time, the teacher 
can not be always opening up new and agreeable vistas. 
He must resort to repetition for the sake of thoroughness 
of apprehension and firmness of retention. He may even 
be justified in certain cases in persevering with what is 
distasteful to a child if there is reasonable ground to hope 
that the learner will, by a process of accommodation and 
growth, find the subject congenial by-and-by. It is only 
in the earlier stages of instruction that the pleasure of 
novelty can be frequently indulged in. The aim of the 
teacher is to develop fixed or permanent interests, that is 
to say, to direct the emotional energies into habitual chan- 

* "Theory and Practice of Teaching," by the Rev. E. Thring, p. 189. 



288 THE FEELINGS: NATURE OF FEELING. 

nels. And this, as we have seen, involves a certain loss of 
freshness, though this is amply compensated by the de- 
velopment of a strong attachment to what has grown cus- 
tomary, and become in a sense a necessary part of our 
existence. 

Varieties of Pleasure and Pain. — The feelings of 
pleasure and pain fall into two main groups : (i) those 
arising from nervous stimulation, and (2) those depending 
on some form of mental activity. The first, commonly 
known as " sensations," may be called sense-feelings ; the 
second are best distinguished as emotions. 

(A) Sense-Feelings. — These, again, fall into two 
distinct groups : (a) those connected with the state of the 
vital organs, or the organic sense-feelings ; and (b) those 
arising from the exercise of the organs of special sense and 
the muscles. 

The first group, being connected with the discharge 
of the lower vegetal functions, are the first to manifest 
themselves in the development of the child. The infant 
is subject to a number of disturbances of the functions of 
digestion, circulation, etc., and these disturbances may 
give rise to a considerable amount of suffering. Attention 
to these signs of impeded function forms an important 
part of early physical education. Owing, too, to the close 
connection of body and mind, these states of physical 
comfort and discomfort profoundly affect the temper and 
mental tone of the child. A child suffering from indiges- 
tion, cold, and so forth, is predisposed to be cross and ill- 
manageable. Indeed, such organic evils when neglected 
may, by inducing a chronic irritability, foster the germs of 
bad emotional traits, such as fretfulness and quarrelsome- 
ness. 

The pleasures and pains connected with the activity of 
the sense-organs are of a higher order, and show them- 
selves later in the history of the child. The delight of 
color and of sweet sound marks the growth of the higher 



DEVELOPMENT OF EMOTION. 



289 



animal and distinctly human functions. We only see a 
crude trace of it in the first months of life ; its fuller 
development presupposes a measure of intellectual activity, 
viz., discrimination, and belongs to a much later period. 
Finally, the feelings connected with the activity of the 
muscles presuppose a certain development of the organs 
and a certain command of them by the will. The infant 
obtains only a limited enjoyment from the use of his 
motor organs. It is later on, when he grows stronger, can 
run about and perform a variety of actions, that he 
realizes the fuller delights of muscular activity.* 

(B) The Emotions. — The higher feelings or emo- 
tions, again, fall into certain well-marked varieties of 
pleasurable and painful susceptibility, such as the satis- 
factions and correlative dissatisfactions of self-esteem, 
affection, the moral sense. These, like the sense-feelings, 
may be best considered in the order in which they mani- 
fest themselves. But before taking them up in detail we 
will consider the general laws according to which the 
emotions develop.f 

Development of Emotion.— The same general laws 
of mental development which we have found to hold good 
in the case of the intellectual faculties apply also to the 
emotions. These are deepened and fixed by exercise, or, 
as we commonly express it, indulgence ; and there is a 
progress from feelings simple in their composition, involv- 
ing little mental representation, to feelings complex in 
their nature, and implying a high degree of representative 
activity. 

* When speaking of the organic feelings, we have to dwell on the 
painful or disagreeable side as being the more conspicuous. In the 
feelings connected with the use of the senses, especially hearing and 
sight, the pleasurable side is the more prominent. 

f In most cases it is the pleasurable side of the feeling or suscepti- 
bility which is specially indicated by the name, as when we speak of 
the love of approbation or of self-complacency. In the case of fear, 
however, we clearly have to do with a painful feeling. 
13 



290 



THE FEELINGS: NATURE OF FEELING. 



(1) Instinctive and Hereditary Element. — Our emotions 
spring out of certain instinctive germs. The child is so 
constituted as to be affected with the particular feeling 
called anger or fear when the appropriate circumstances, 
sense of being thwarted, consciousness of danger, present 
themselves. And this instinctive rudiment of emotion is 
not the same in all cases. We find that similar circum- 
stances and experiences do not result in the same intensity 
of emotion in different children ; and this shows that they 
are born with dissimilar emotional tendencies or disposi- 
tions. The sum of these native or instinctive dispositions 
constitutes the child's emotional nature or temperament. 
Such differences in emotional capacity are connected with 
physical differences, including diversities not only in the 
structure and mode of working of the brain and nervous 
system, but in the constitution of the muscular system and 
of the vital organs engaged in the outgoings of feeling. 

The instinctive foundations of feeling include, besides 
these capacities to feel in different ways, certain transmitted 
associations. For example, the infant smiles, when only a 
few weeks old, at the sight of his mother's face. This im- 
plies that there is an inherited tendency to feel pleasure 
of a particular kind in connection with this particular im- 
pression, viz., the sight of the human face. Again, there 
is good reason to suppose that the child has an instinctive 
fear of strange men, and of certain animals. Such trans- 
mitted associations appear to point to the effects of ances- 
tral experience. Numberless experiences of the pleasures 
of human companionship, and of the dangers connected 
with strangers and wild animals during the past history of 
the race, have left their organic trace in the shape of an 
inherited association. 

(2) The Effect of Exercise, Experience, etc. — In the sec- 
ond place, every emotion in its developed form presup- 
poses certain experiences and a process of acquisition 
within the individual life. The feelings, like the intellect- 



FEELINGS DEEPENED BY EXERCISE. 291 

ual operations, become strengthened and perfected by ex- 
ercise of the natural capabilities. 

Every experience of pleasure or pain leaves its after- 
trace on the mind. Just as every exercise of the powers 
of attention leaves the mind and the connected brain- 
centers modified and more strongly disposed to that par- 
ticular kind of activity, so every indulgence of a feeling 
tends to strengthen the corresponding disposition. The 
child that has fully indulged a feeling of anger or of vanity 
is much more ready to fall into that mode of feeling again. 

It follows from this effect of exercise that every feeling 
tends (within certain limits) to become deeper by repeated 
indulgences. Traces of previous feelings of a like kind 
mingle with the new feeling ; or the new feeling wakens 
echoes of previous like feelings. In this way, for example, 
a child's feeling of gratitude toward one who is in the 
habit of being kind to him is gradually deepened by an 
accumulation of emotional traces. 

As a final result of this persistence of emotional traces 
we have what is called revived or " ideal " feeling. After 
having had actual experience of fear or anger, a child is 
able, when his representative power is sufficiently devel- 
oped, to recall and imagine the feeling. Thus he can re- 
call a fit of anger, and can imagine himself feeling angry 
again by supposing himself in new circumstances, and can 
enter into another's feeling of anger when he sees it ex- 
pressed. This ability to reproduce and realize a state of 
feeling, when no longer actually present, constitutes a most 
important attainment in emotional and moral development. 

Association of Feeling. — This revival or represen- 
tation of feeling takes place according to the law of con- 
tiguity. A feeling of pleasure or of pain is recalled to the 
mind by the recurrence of the impression or object of 
which the feeling was an accompaniment. Thus, to take 
a simple case, the sight of a cool stream on a hot day calls 
up the pleasurable experience of a plunge. The presence 



292 THE FEELINGS: NATURE OF FEELING. 

of a person who has done us a kindness gives us pleasure 
by calling up in our mind the agreeable recollection of this 
kindness.* These associations embrace not only the ob- 
jects and circumstances which cause the feeling, but col- 
lateral accompaniments. Thus a child may take a violent 
repugnance to a room or a house where it has had a dis- 
agreeable experience. A liking for a person may take its 
rise in some quite accidental association with a very agree- 
able experience. 

The growth of emotion depends on the readiness with 
which such associations are formed, and the strength of 
these associations. Children of a lively emotional tem- 
perament are quick in investing places, objects, and per- 
sons with agreeable and disagreeable associations, and, as 
a consequence, easily acquire strong likings and dislikes. 

Many emotions in their fully-developed form are com- 
posite feelings, made up of many simpler feelings, both 
sense-feelings and simpler emotional states, which coalesce 
in a mass of feeling. Such coalescence takes place by the 
aid of association. It is the result of a number of agree- 
able or disagreeable associations successively attaching 
themselves to one and the same object. In this way arise 
the child's permanent likings for his favorite toys and 
books, his home surroundings, the streams and woods 
which are his frequent resort, and his brute and human 
companions. The more numerous and varied the experi- 
ences which combine in these associations, the greater the 
volume of the resulting feeling. 

Habits of Feeling. — The highest result of these pro- 
cesses of association is the formation of a permanent habit 
of feeling. A child who has contracted a strong liking or 
disliking for a person or a place can not see or think about 

* The reader should compare this with what was said in chapter ix 
on the effect of feeling in fixing impressions on the mind. A feeling 
associated with an impression strengthens this, and conversely is itself 
revived by its medium. 



GROWTH OF THE EMOTIONS. 



293 



the object without experiencing a revival of the feeling. 
In this way are developed customary or habitual modes of 
feeling toward the various objects of his surroundings. 
The formation of these fixed habits or dispositions consti- 
tutes one important part of emotional development. 

The formation of these fixed habits involves a loss of 
the early intensity, and a growth in respect of calmness 
and depth. Children's feelings are strong and explosive ; 
feelings of older people are calmer, but more lasting. This 
illustrates the effect of custom touched on just now. At 
the same time, the growth of an emotional habit implies a 
large increase of potential intensity. Thus the calmer and 
riper love of a boy of fifteen for his mother includes a 
much higher capacity of feeling strongly when occasion 
calls for it, e. g., when meeting her after an interval of 
separation, or receiving some unlooked-for kindness from 
her. The effect of repetition and custom shows itself, too, 
in the growth of periodic cravings for the beloved object, 
and in a greatly intensified susceptibility to the sufferings 
of losing the valued possession. 

Order of Development of the Emotions.— The 
various emotions, like the intellectual faculties, appear to 
unfold themselves in the order of increasing complexity 
and representativeness. Thus the feeling of fear comes 
among the earliest, because it is simple in its composition, 
and involves a lower degree of representative power. All 
that is needed to develop a feeling of dread is a physical 
suffering and a degree of retentiveness sufficient to build 
up an association of this with an object or place. A feel- 
ing of affection for a person comes later than this, because 
it involves a greater complexity of experience and a higher 
degree of retentive power. 

We may, for our present purpose, conveniently divide 
the emotions into three classes, answering roughly to three 
grades of complexity : (1) The first group are the so- 
called egoistic feelings. As the name suggests, they have 



294 THE FEELINGS: NATURE OF FEELING. 

to do with the individual, his wants, interests, and well- 
being. They all have a common root in the instinct of 
self-preservation and self-furtherance. Being of the great- 
est consequence for the maintenance of the individual life, 
they are the first to be developed. They include the well- 
known feelings, fear, anger, love of power, and so forth 
Some of them, as anger and envy, are directed toward 
others, and, since they serve to divide individuals one from 
another in an attitude of antagonism, are known as anti- 
social feelings. 

(2) The second group consists of the social feelings. 
These, as the name suggests, have the general character of 
being favorable to others, and so subserve human compan- 
ionship and friendship. Hence they have a higher moral 
value than the egoistic feelings. Being unconnected with 
the instinct of self-preservation, and serving rather to 
check the action of this, they manifest themselves later in 
the history of the child. These feelings include a number 
of emotions of very unequal value, from a liking for an- 
other's approving smile up to a perfectly disinterested 
sympathy, and from a restricted and largely egoistic love 
for a parent up to a wide-spreading emotion of benevo- 
lence. 

(3) The third group consists of highly complex feel- 
ings, which are commonly known as sentiments, such as 
patriotism, the feeling for nature, for humanity. These 
are commonly brought under three heads : the intellectual 
sentiment, or the love of truth ; the sesthetic sentiment, or 
admiration of the beautiful ; and the moral sentiment, or 
reverence for duty. These emotions in their developed 
form attach themselves to certain abstract ideas — truth, 
beauty, moral goodness. Hence they presuppose a much 
higher stage of mental development than the other two 
groups. Their culture forms the last and crowning phase 
of the education of the emotions. 

Characteristics of Children's Feelings. — The feel- 



CHILDREN'S EMOTIONS. 295 

ings of early life are, as already hinted, to a large extent 
egoistic. The germ of affection may be detected, but this 
has little of a disinterested character. And though the 
rudiment of aesthetic taste is present, this is confined to 
the sensuous side of things (brightness, color, etc.). At 
the beginning of life the bodily pleasures and pains make 
up the chief part of the experience of feeling. Among 
these must be included the pleasures and pains of appe- 
tite, which form so conspicuous an ingredient in the early 
experience of feeling. Even those traces of emotion 
properly so called which appear at this time are closely 
allied to these lower sense-feelings. Thus temper is at 
first the immediate outcome of physical pain, envy the out- 
come of greediness, and so forth. In the first years of life 
feeling is bound up with the bodily life and the lower forms 
of sensation. 

Another characteristic closely connected with this is 
that the emotional states of the child are immediately de- 
pendent on actual impressions. Fear is excited by the 
sight of a dog, but not yet by a mental image of it. In 
other words, the child's emotions are only directly excited 
by present objects. The low degree of representative or 
imaginative power does not allow as yet of a reproduction 
and ideal gratification of feeling. 

This predominance of the physical element and the con- 
trol of feeling by present circumstances may help us to 
understand other characteristics of childish feeling. Its 
most striking feature is its intensity and violence. .We 
commonly talk about the passionateness of children. 
The outbreaks of childish temper are in their stormy vio- 
lence and their complete mastery of the mind unlike any- 
thing that occurs in later life — at least in the case of those 
who have learned to govern their passions. This turbulence 
of emotion, which produces the most marked effects on 
the mind and body alike, is connected with the absence 
of reflected power. The physical discomfort is all-absorb- 



296 THE FEELINGS: NATURE OF FEELING. 

ing while it lasts, because the child is unable to bring 
memory and reflection to his aid, so as to recognize the 
triviality of the cause, the fugitive nature of the pain, and 
so forth. Similarly, the sight of a dog fills the mind of a 
timid child with terror for the time, because the mind is 
unable to recollect and reflect. And while the subjuga- 
tion of the mind by feeling is thus favored by the intellect- 
ual weakness of the child and his low degree of representa- 
tive power, it is also furthered by the backwardness of his 
moral development, the want of a sense of the unseemliness 
and mischievousness of immoderate passion, and the want 
of the power of will needed to check and curb the forces 
of emotion. 

With this violence of childish feeling there is corre- 
lated another characteristic, viz., its fugitiveness. The 
passionate child differs from the passionate man in the 
transitoriness of his outbreaks. This is their redeeming 
side. There is something almost amusing in watching the 
storm of passion suddenly stilled by the suggestion of 
some divergent train of ideas. The little sufferer who has 
been thrown into an agony of distress by the accidental 
breakage of a toy is at once restored to his usual serenity 
and cheerfulness by the introduction of some new and di- 
verting object. 

This outwardness of feeling or dependence on present 
external circumstances shows itself further in the charac- 
teristic changeableness and capriciousness of children's 
emotions. The child has but few fixed likings or antipa- 
thies. To-day he is full of caresses for his nurse or his 
toy-animal ; to-morrow he varies his mood and heaps 
abuse on his favorite. The annoyance of the present mo- 
ment is not supplemented and counterbalanced by the re- 
membered gratifications of the past. Each feeling is thus 
the result of the present circumstances and experience : it 
does not gather up the results of many successive experi- 
ences. 



REGULATING YOUTHFUL EMOTION. 



297 



The Education of the Feelings. — The cultivation 
and management of the feelings forms a large and im- 
portant part of education. Viewed in one way, this edu- 
cation of the feelings has as its object the child's own 
happiness. From this point of view the special object 
would be so to regulate the feelings of the young as to 
provide them with the richest and most varied means of 
happiness. This aim again culminates in the cultivation 
of the mind as a whole, and the development of intel- 
lectual interests and aesthetic taste. And this direction of 
emotional culture connects itself very closely with intel- 
lectual education. Finally, the educator may consider 
the feelings rather from a practical and ethical point of 
view as providing the motives or springs of action. And 
here his special aim will be to convert emotional force 
into the best stimulus to the will, so as to render the child 
efficient in the discharge of the duties of life. This prac- 
tical view, while including a reference to the individual 
child's own happiness, is more specially concerned with 
the claims of others and the obligations of the individual 
to the community. It connects itself closely with the 
ends of moral training. 

When we speak of the educator aiding in the develop- 
ment of the feelings, we imply that the emotional sensi- 
bilities of the individual are to some extent acted on by 
his social environment. This may not at first sight seem 
evident. The means of stimulating the intellectual powers 
of the child lie in the parent's or teacher's hand. He can 
set objects before his eye, communicate knowledge by 
means of words, and so directly act upon his faculties. 
But how is he to work on the feelings of the child ? how, 
for example, excite a feeling of pity or of shame in the 
breast of a child ? Yet observation shows that children's 
feelings are to a considerable extent under the control of 
those with whom they live ; and we have to inquire into 
the means by which this influence is excited. 



298 THE FEELINGS: NATURE OF FEELING. 

The culture of the emotions falls into two well-marked 
divisions : (a) the negative culture, or the due limitation 
of the forces of passion ; and (6) the positive culture, or 
the calling forth and developing of the feelings. 

(a) Repression of Feeling. — There are emotions 
which are apt to exist in excess, such as fear and the anti- 
social feelings. These must to a certain extent be re- 
pressed, whether for the child's physical or moral good, or 
in the interests of others. In truth, one great aim of the 
educator is to bring the turbulence of children's feelings 
under restraint. 

The problem of subduing the force of feeling in the 
young is in some respects a peculiarly difficult one. As 
we have seen, their passionate outbursts are marked by 
great violence, and this makes it difficult for the educator 
to reach and influence the child's mind when under the 
sway of emotion. Moreover, the great agency by which, 
as we shall see by-and-by, the force of feeling is checked 
and counteracted, namely, an effort of self-restraint, can 
not be relied on in the case of young children, owing to 
the feebleness of their wills. At the same time, the mo- 
bility of the child's mind is favorable to the diversion of 
his attention from the exciting cause of the passion, and in 
this way it is in ordinary cases easy for the educator to quiet 
the turbulence of passion after its first violence is over. 

In addition to thus seeking to subdue the force of 
passion when actually excited, the wise teacher will aim 
at weakening the underlying sensibilities. In the matter 
of the feelings it is emphatically true that prevention is 
better than cure. Thus he has to take care that children 
with a strong disposition to violent temper should not be 
exposed to circumstances likely to inflame their passion. 
An envious child ought not to be placed in a situation 
which is pretty certain to excite this feeling. An emo- 
tional susceptibility may to some extent be weakened and 
even " starved out " through want of exercise. 



CONTROL OF THE EMOTIONS. 



299 



Again, feelings may be weakened by strengthening the 
intellectual side of the child's mind, adding to his knowl- 
edge, and exercising his powers of reflection and judg- 
ment. In this way, for example, children's first foolish 
terrors will be undermined by the gradual melting away 
of childish superstitions under the general influence of a 
truer knowledge of Nature and her laws. Similarly, the 
violence of grief is tempered by the development of the 
faculty of judgment, and the ability to compare things and 
view them in their real proportions. 

Finally, the weakening or deadening of an unlovely or 
injurious feeling is best effected by strengthening some 
opposed type of feeling. Thus every exercise of a feeling 
of regard for others' good qualities tends to enfeeble a 
child's conceit. Every exercise in kindness and con- 
sideration for others helps to weaken the impulses of 
anger and envy. The educator, as Waitz remarks, aims 
at curbing and weakening the lower egoistic feelings by 
developing the higher social and moral sentiments. 

(b) Stimulation of Emotion. — What we call the 
culture of feeling is, however, largely concerned with the 
problem of strengthening and developing certain emo- 
tions. This applies in a special manner to the higher 
feelings, viz., the social feelings and the abstract senti- 
ments. The formation of the higher interests, intellectual 
and aesthetic, and the development of good feelings toward 
others, and a sense of duty, implies that the educator set 
himself directly to excite and call forth feeling.* Since 
feeling grows by exercise, the educator must use means to 
call forth the particular emotional susceptibility into full 

* Waitz argues well against the idea (originating in Rousseau's 
general conception of education) that the educator's function in rela- 
tion to the feelings is merely to restrain and not to stimulate. He 
points out that while repression is the main thing in the earlier stages 
of development, stimulation becomes more and more important as the 
child advances. "(" Allgemeine Paedagogik," pp. 146-147.) 



300 



THE FEELINGS : NATURE OF FEELING. 



and vigorous play. There are two principal agencies of 
which the educator can avail himself here, (i) First of 
all, the child may be introduced to objects or circum- 
stances which are fitted to excite a particular feeling. 
Thus, by presenting to a child some instance of suffering, 
the parent aims at directly evoking a feeling of pity. In 
a similar way, pretty objects, stories, etc., serve to call 
forth the feeling of aesthetic admiration. As supplement- 
ary to this presentation of suitable objects, the educator 
may, by inducing the child to put forth his activities, set 
him in the way of acquiring new experiences for himself 
and so of discovering new modes of pleasure. In this 
manner an indolent, unambitious child may be roused to 
activity by a first taste of the pleasures of success and the 
delight of well-earned commendation. All intellectual 
training aims at developing certain feelings or interests by 
calling forth corresponding modes of mental activity. 

(2) In the second place, much may be done by the 
habitual manifestation of a particular feeling by those 
who constitute the child's social environments. Children 
tend to reflect the feelings they see expressed by their 
parents, teachers, and young companions. The explana- 
tion of this process of emotional imitation will be supplied 
when we come to deal with the subject of sympathy. 
Here it is enough to refer to it as one of the great instru- 
mentalities by which the educator may help to mold the 
growing emotional nature of the child. 

The aim of the educator in developing the feelings 
should be to build up strong and permanent attachments 
or affections for worthy things, persons, and modes of 
activity. And here the principles of repetition and asso- 
ciation become important. The feeling for the home, for 
the school, for the teacher, and for school-work is highly 
composite, the product of a slow process of accumulation 
and growth. If the educator wants to develop a strong 
liking for a subject of study, he must manage to present it 



MANAGEMENT OF THE EMOTIONS. 301 

in a pleasurable light, to connect it by as many associa- 
tions as possible with what is agreeable. Similarly, in 
seeking to excite a permanent feeling of affection for him- 
self, he has to build up a mass of agreeable feeling. He 
should remember, too, that even accidental associations 
exert a powerful influence, and seek as far as possible to 
make all the surroundings and accompaniments of what 
is to be esteemed or admired worthy and impressive. 

In order to help in building up such a lasting affection, 
the educator must be on his guard against a too frequent 
indulgence of feeling on the one hand, and a too fre- 
quent wounding of the susceptibility on the other. A boy 
who is continually being caressed by his mother or praised 
by his teacher is apt to set little store by these things. 
No feeling must be indulged up to the point of satiety. 
And, on the other hand, the educator should bear in mind 
that the frequent wounding of any feeling is apt to deaden 
it. A boy who never got praise when he felt he deserved 
it would tend to grow indifferent to it. Affection unre- 
quited dies from starvation. The more delicate feelings, 
as shame, as Locke observes, "can not be kept and often 
transgressed against." * 

One more general caution may be added. The edu- 
cator must be on his guard against spurious sickly feel- 
ings and the mere outward affectation of feeling. The 
very eagerness of the parent or teacher to cultivate good 
feelings, and the wish of children to please, are, as Locke 
points out, favorable to the growth of affectation.! The 
educator must not try to force feelings, or, by looking out 
for the expression of feeling, induce children to try to 
simulate the appearance of sensibility,t nor must he allow 

* " Thoughts concerning Education," § 60. 

f " On Education," § 66. 

X " Nothing," says Miss Edge-worth, " hurts young people more than 
to be watched continually about their feelings, to have their counte- 
nances scrutinized, and the degrees of their sensibility measured by 



3 02 THE FEELINGS: NATURE OF FEELING. 

children's natural wish to please lead them spontaneously 
to an affectation of pleasing sentiments. He must be 
severe in discriminating a genuine and worthy feeling, say 
of pity or remorse, from its unworthy and sentimental 
imitation, and the more outward show for the inward re- 
ality ; and he must not allow feeling to divorce itself from 
action and to lapse into mere emotional indulgence, in- 
stead of becoming efficient as a motive to conduct. 

the surveying eye of the unmerciful spectator." (" Practical Educa- 
tion," chap, x.) 



CHAPTER XVII. 

THE EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL FEELINGS. 

In the previous chapter a general account was given 
of the nature of feeling. We may now go on to consider 
the feelings in detail. Here we shall follow the order of 
development and begin with the egoistic feelings, briefly 
discussing a few of the more prominent types, such as 
fear, anger, love of activity, with which the educator is 
specially concerned. 

(A) Egoistic Feelings : Fear. — One of the earli- 
est feelings to be developed is fear, the more intense de- 
grees of which are marked off as terror. This is the 
simplest form of an emotion pure and simple, that is to 
say, a feeling which has no admixture of present sensa- 
tion, but springs out of mental activity. Fear arises from 
the idea and anticipation of evil, and thus involves a sim- 
ple act of mental representation. It presupposes a pre- 
vious experience of pain in some form, and the formation 
of an association between this experience and its cause or 
accompaniment. Thus the child's proverbial dread of the 
fire is the natural consequent of some actual experience 
of its burning quality. At the same time there is good 
reason to suppose that certain forms of fear are aided 
by inherited association. Children of a certain age are 
apt to display fear in the presence of animals and strange 
persons", before their experience can have led them to con- 
nect any idea of danger with these objects. And the 



304 THE EGOISTIC AND SOCIAI FEELINGS. 

timidity shown by children when they begin to walk can 
not easily be explained as the result of individual experi- 
ence.* 

While experience is thus necessary, in the first place, 
to suggest danger, it is not necessary that a child should 
have had experience of the particular form of evil sug- 
gested in a given case. When once his mind has grown 
familiar with certain varieties of pain, the exercise of his 
imagination may suffice to excite fear in the presence of 
new and unknown evils. It is easy to excite fear in a 
child's mind by any suggestion of unexperienced evil, 
e. g., falling into water, a fact well known to a certain 
class of nurse-maids and others. 

In its more intense forms fear is always bound up with 
an indefinite representation of the threatening evil. Where 
the mind distinctly realizes the precise nature and extent 
of a suffering, the more striking characteristics of fear are 
wanting. Hence some of the most distressing forms of 
childish fear arise in presence of unknown and therefore 
immeasurable possibilities of evil, e. g., when threatened 
with being handed over to the policeman. f The agitating 
effect of fear is further increased by the uncertainty of 
the evil. It is harder to calmly face an uncertain misery 
than a certain one. 

As a form of painful feeling, we should expect fear to 
have a depressing effect on the mental and bodily activi- 
ties. But the peculiarity of the emotion is its unnerving 
and disabling character. The intellectual processes are 
arrested, the attention is rigidly held by the exciting ob- 
* For a discussion of the question how far fear is inherited, see Pe- 
rez, " First Three Years of Childhood," p. 62, etc. ; Preyer, " Die Seele 
des Kindes," p. 104, etc. A question much disputed by educationists, 
from Locke downward, is whether children have an instinctive fear of 
the dark. Locke is positive that the fear of the dark is not instinctive. 
("On Education," ed. by Quick, p. 118.) 

f An excellent illustration of the cruel effect of such boundless 
terror is given by Mr. Anstey in his story, " The Giant's Robe." 



THE USES OF FEAR. 305 

ject, and the imagination is apt to be inflamed to a peril- 
ous degree. Abject terror thus deprives the mind of all 
power. And there is something analogous to this in the 
physical prostration which accompanies the state. In its 
extreme degrees fear may bring about serious bodily de- 
rangements. 

Children are in general much disposed to this emotion. 
A little experience enables them to realize their special 
liability to evil, their bodily weakness, their ignorance, and 
their inability to cope with danger. And this result is 
furthered by their instinctive tendency to dread. A cer- 
tain timidity seems to be appropriate to childhood ; and 
it is natural to suppose that the native proneness to fear 
is one of the instinctive endowments that help to subserve 
the great end of self-preservation. This characteristic is, 
moreover, intimately connected with the earliest form of 
the social instinct, viz., the impulse to seek the society of 
others as a mode of security, and to depend on them for 
protection and guidance.* 

The educator is concerned with this feeling in differ- 
ent ways. First of all, he has to guard children against 
all groundless and debasing forms of the emotion, more 
particularly superstitious terror and the fear of the dark. 
It is of the first importance, as Locke says, to avoid all 
suggestions which give rise to childish fright. Careless 
parents, by over-indulging children in sensational stories 
about hobgoblins and so forth, often excite a timidity in 
the young mind of which they are unaware. The educa- 
tor needs to watch carefully for the causes of children's 
fear. Children often connect ideas of danger with things 
as the result of accidental associations. Miss Edgeworth 
gives as an instance the dread of a child for a drum which 
he first saw played by a Merry-Andrew in a mask. Chil- 

* At the same time this feeling acts as a powerful check to the 
social feelings ; more particularly it shows itself in the common timid- 
ity and shyness of children in the presence of strangers. 



306 THE EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL FEELINGS. 

dren's tendency to fear must be corrected by the develop- 
ment of the opposite feeling of courage and self-confi- 
dence ; and their wills should be exercised in a habit of 
courageously facing the sources of dread. In this way 
much of childish fear will disappear. Finally, the great 
remedy for abject and injurious terror is the development 
of intelligence, which dispels many of our early fears as 
purely imaginary, and enables us to measure the exact 
dimensions of any particular form of evil and to assign it 
its proper value.* 

While the educator has thus to restrain fear and rob 
it of its overpowering and debasing force, he has at the 
same time to preserve and make use of the feeling in its 
milder forms. After a certain amount of experience, 
timidity is apt to give place to a foolish recklessness in 
encountering danger. In the first delightful sense of 
growing strength the boy is liable to exaggerate his ability 
to cope with danger. And here it is desirable to cultivate 
a certain cautiousness and apprehensiveness. And gen- 
erally the educator, while discouraging excessive and 
harmful varieties of the emotion, as the dread of being 
laughed at, has to call forth and strengthen the emotion 
in relation to proper and worthy objects, as wrong actions 
and the loss of others' esteem. 

Finally, the educator needs the emotion of fear as a 
motive force. Every governor has to work to some ex- 
tent on the fear of the governed, and the teacher is no 
exception. Here, however, he must be careful not to ex- 
cite the emotion in its unnerving and prostrating intensity. 
The policy of compelling by threat, if carried out to its 
cruel extremity, must necessarily defeat its own end. By 
exciting terror in children we deprive them of the power 
of doing the very things which we require. Where, how- 
ever, the evil is definite in character, and of dimensions 

* On the way to deal with childish fears, see Locke, " On Educa- 
tion," § 115, and following. 



ANGER AS AN EMOTION. 



307 



which can be grasped by the pupil's mind, the agitation 
of terror is eliminated, and the will is spurred to activity 
by a calm apprehension of a realizable amount of suffer- 
ing. 

Anger, Antipathy.— To the same class of simple 
primitive feelings as fear must be referred the emotion of 
anger. This resembles fear in the fact that it springs out 
of an experience of pain. But, unlike fear, it has a dis- 
tinctly pleasurable ingredient. We speak of the gratifica- 
tion of the angry passions. The feeling of anger proper 
contrasts with fear in having as its accompaniment an 
energetic form of activity. A child in an angry passion 
is not prostrated and paralyzed as in the state of fear, but 
is thrown into a state of violent muscular action. At the 
same time the violence of the activity and its irregular 
and spasmodic character make it baneful and destructive 
of energy. A fit of angry temper exhausts the strength 
of the child. 

In its simplest form, as seen in the passionate outbreak 
of an infant at the beginning of life, anger is the direct 
outcome of physical pain, and may be described as the 
instinctive revolt of a sentient creature against the dispen- 
sation of suffering. Later on, this crude type of feeling, 
in which the physical element predominates, becomes dif- 
ferentiated into the emotion of anger proper.* This feel- 
ing, is based on a consciousness of another's action op- 
posed to the child's own, and involves a rudimentary 
sense of injury. It is closely connected in its origin with 
the animal impulse of combat, and probably derives its 
energetic character from this circumstance. It thus has 
its root, like fear, in the instinct of self-preservation. It 
is the accompaniment of the outgoings of the impulse of 
self-defense against an adversary. And the deep pleasure 
which attends the indulgence of angry passion is probably 

* Mr. Darwin says anger proper is distinctly manifested before the 
fourth month. 



3 o8 THE EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL FEELINGS. 

connected with the circumstance that the passion is the 
most rousing to the energies alike of body and of mind, 
and includes the satisfaction of the most powerful of our 
animal instincts. 

Children are notoriously much under the dominion of 
this primitive passion. They resent suffering, and vent 
their resentment in outbreaks of impotent childish wrath, 
screaming, dashing things to the ground, and, in extreme 
cases, casting themselves in a kind of mad despair on the 
floor. Not being able as yet to distinguish in moments 
of mental agitation between intentional and unintentional 
injury, they are at such times wont to pour out the vials 
of infantile wrath on the unoffending heads of their doll, 
toy-horse, or any other inanimate thing which happens to 
cause them annoyance. 

Anger shows itself in a variety of forms. In its pure 
form of retaliation it has as its exciting cause the percep- 
tion of another's injurious action or intention. Being 
closely allied in its origin with the instinct of combat, it 
accompanies all the more exciting varieties of contest in a 
more or less distinct form. As a mere delight in annoy- 
ing and injuring, it frequently associates itself with the 
love of power in its coarser and more brutal forms, and 
constitutes a prime ingredient in the well-known boyish 
type, the bully. It commonly combines with the strong 
destructive instincts of children in fostering that love of 
cruelty to animals of which they are commonly accused.* 
It makes its harsh voice heard in the shout of cruel boyish 
ridicule. In a less pleasurable and triumphant form the 
feeling of anger shows itself as a nascent hatred or spite 
in the child's envy at another's happiness, and, more par- 

* According to Dr. Bain, there is an instinctive delight in the wit- 
nessing of suffering, which forms the core of the gratification of the 
malign passion. But Locke thinks cruelty is due to bad education. 
See "On Education," sec. 66. 



THE ANTI-SOCIAL FEELINGS. 309 

ticularly, his jealousy at seeing another child caressed and 
favored.* 

When it takes a firm root in the mind, anger may de-- 
velop into a permanent antipathy or dislike to a person. 
Children show an animal-like readiness to contract such 
lasting dispositions to those who have (actually or appar- 
ently) done them harm or offered them offense. 

As the anti-social feeling which divides man from man, 
the instinct of retaliation, though useful and necessary to 
the individual, makes a heavy demand on the restraining 
forces of the educator. It would clearly be fatal to the 
happiness and the moral development of the child to hu- 
mor its temper and to allow its outbreaks of angry passion 
to go unchecked. The brute-like violence of infantile 
temper must be assuaged. But this can not be done by a 
mere employment of physical force. When, to take Rous- 
seau's example, the nurse beats a child for crying, the dis- 
cipline is not likely to calm its passion or cure its irritability. 

The passionate child must be appealed to on its human 
and reasonable side. Thus all provocatives of violent 
passion must be avoided. The parent must not, for ex- 
ample, madden an irascible child by exciting its envy. 
Having himself to occasion a considerable amount of an- 
noyance by the restraints of discipline, he must take par- 
ticular pains to allay vindictive feelings in relation to him- 
self. To this end he should avoid every appearance of 
irregularity, caprice, and unfairness in his mode of man- 
agement. The sense of right is based on custom, and a 
child that is customarily allowed an indulgence smarts 
under a nascent sense of injustice when this is withheld. 
Thus a mother who in nine cases out of ten allows a child 
a light on going to bed, and in the tenth instance forbids 
this, excites a legitimate anger, closely analogous to moral 
indignation. 

* For an account of the feeling of jealousy as manifested by chil- 
dren and young animals, see Perez, op. cit., p. 70, and following. 



3io 



THE EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL FEELINGS. 



Again, the educator should call forth the child's reflect- 
ive powers, and cultivate a juster and sounder view of 
things. As Miss Edgeworth well says, a propos of the man- 
agement of children's temper, " you must alter the habits 
of thinking, you must change the view of the object, be- 
fore you can alter the feelings." * Thus a cross and queru- 
lous child should be led to see that much which appears 
to be an intended injury to itself is not so, that playmates 
are apt to overlook the results of their actions, and that 
their parents and teachers are their friends, having their 
true interests at heart. And, as the child's powers develop, 
an appeal should be made to the will to exert itself in 
checking and bringing under the turbulent forces of pas- 
sion. Lastly, the anti-social impulses should be limited 
and counterbalanced by the assiduous cultivation of the 
social and kindly feelings. Discipline and a growing sense 
of the unseemliness of violent passion may suffice to check 
its outbreaks ; but the only adequate security against the 
indulgence of internal malice, hatred, and the other un- 
holy progeny of anger, is the formation of a humane and 
generous disposition. 

Here, too, as in other cases, the educator must remem- 
ber that his function is not that of extirpating something 
wholly bad. The impulse of injury is a necessary endow- 
ment, and has its proper and legitimate scope. It is no 
doubt true that society, by taking the punishment of the 
more flagrant offenses into its own hands, deprives the 
individual of the fullest indulgence of his vindictive in- 
stincts. At the same time it is equally plain that it allows 
him a certain modest field for the exercise and manifesta- 
tion of the retaliative impulse. No form of government, 
whether that of the school or of the state, relieves the 
individual of all necessity of self-defense. On the con- 
trary, he is expected to assert his own rights, and to meet 
injury by a manifestation of those instincts which Nature 

* " Practical Education," chap. vi. 



DEFENSIBLE ANGER. 



311 



has provided for our self-protection. A child that is 
tame and spiritless, and allows the bully to indulge his 
love of power to the utmost, proves himself to be unfitted 
to take his part in the battle of life. And such servile 
submission, so far from being praised by the moral educa- 
tor, should if needful be denounced. 

Not only so, anger is needed to give life and vigor to 
higher and nobler sentiments. The instinct of retaliation, 
so brutal and cruel when untamed, is susceptible of be- 
coming softened and refined into a worthy feeling. In 
the indignant revolt of the child-mind against the very 
idea of cruelty, whether to man or brute, anger is not only 
stripped of its unloveliness, but assumes a pleasing and 
even admirable aspect. By cultivating a wide sympathy 
with the sufferings of others, the educator may help to 
humanize the instincts of resentment, by transforming 
them into a genuinely disinterested and impassioned sense 
of justice. 

Love of Activity and of Power. — We now come to 
a feeling of a different order, viz., the love of activity. It 
is egoistic, since the pleasure which the child experiences 
in exerting his powers is connected with and subserves 
the maintenance and furtherance of him as an individual. 
At the same time it is a feeling which the educator has 
rather to foster and utilize as a motive than to repress. It 
supplies one of the well-known educational motives. 

As pointed out above, all activity, when suitable to the 
powers exerted, is attended with a sense of enjoyment. 
Where there is a vigorous body and brain, and an ade- 
quate recuperation of the powers by periods of repose, 
there arises a strong disposition to activity, so that the 
slightest opening or stimulus is seized and utilized. This 
readiness to act is known as the " spontaneous activity " 
of the child. Healthy children are eager to be doing 
something. And this spontaneous energy vents itself not 
only in muscular action, but in an exercise of the sense- 



312 



THE EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL FEELINGS. 



organs and the brain in examining objects. The pleasure 
directly springing from and accompanying this discharge 
of nervous force constitutes the sensuous basis of the love 
of activity. 

The feeling acquires more of the dignity of an emotion 
when the spontaneous activity meets with a momentary 
check. This excites a special exertion of energy and in- 
volves a much more distinct consciousness of the action 
as our own. One may easily observe the germ of this 
feeling in a child of two or three months when absorbed 
in some exciting effort, as trying to lift a heavy object or 
to reach one lying barely within its reach. The overcom- 
ing of the difficulty is accompanied by a look of elation 
and a grunt of satisfaction. Here we have the first rude 
trace of the emotion of power. In the intensification and 
prolongation of its activity under the stimulus of an ob- 
stacle the child has woke up to a clearer and fuller con- 
sciousness of its powers. 

The pleasurable feeling of power is experienced when- 
ever the child succeeds in doing something — whether a 
physical or mental act — that it could not do, or was not 
aware of being able to do, before. It is also enjoyed 
when any action, which was before felt to be difficult, 
becomes sensibly easier. It is thus connected with prog- 
ress or growth, and involves a feeling which is directly 
satisfied by a comparison between the past and the pres- 
ent. The feeling of power further derives much of its 
gratification from the social surroundings. In the face of 
its elders, parents, teacher, etc., the child is no doubt con- 
scious rather of its weakness than of its strength. And 
this sense of power may readily grow into a distinctly 
painful feeling. But children have a way of recouping 
themselves for any humiliation from this source by em- 
phasizing to the utmost any superiority to other chil- 
dren of which they are able to boast. And, in thus as- 
serting their superiority to others, they are apt to realize 



THE FEELING OF POWER. 



313 



the keenest satisfaction of the feeling of power. In this 
mode of gratification, however, the emotion has an anti- 
social character. In its more exciting forms it owes much 
of its pungency to the admixture of an element of malig- 
nant satisfaction, whether the delight of the bully in 
crushing the weak, or the less ignoble rejoicing of the 
successful antagonist over his more equal rival. 

The feeling of power is capable of growing into a per- 
manent and habitual emotion, the agreeable conscious- 
ness of ability to do things. This is a higher form of the 
emotion, involving more elaborate processes of compari- 
son and abstraction. In this permanent form it enters 
into what we call pride or self-respect. 

The development of the love of activity and power 
must be checked in certain directions. Children are, as 
Locke observes, greedy of dominion, and desire supe- 
riority over others not only in physical and intellectual 
strength, but also in material possessions. The desire for 
power must be moderated and kept within due limits. 
When thus restrained, however, it becomes a most valu- 
able incentive to exertion. A right ambition to get on, to 
grow in strength, knowledge, and skill, is the prime source 
of youthful effort. 

To enjoy the sense of power, the child must, it is evi- 
dent, have a certain liberty of action. The suffering of 
restraint is the consciousness of fettered energy. A child 
only does his best at anything when he enjoys a sense of 
spontaneous exertion and self-activity. To throw an ap- 
pearance of spontaneity into school-work is the most cer- 
tain means of rousing his energies to their full tension. 
The Kindergarten undoubtedly owes much of its popularity 
among children to the fact that it so easily presents itself 
to their minds as a sort of more serious play-room. 

In the higher stages of education there seems less room 
for the action of this principle. Learning can not be re- 
duced to a highly enjoyable experience of self-activity. 



314 THE EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL FEELINGS. 

The very conception of teaching involves external restraint, 
and this excludes the full delight of spontaneous activity. 
Not only so, the teacher must do very much to assist the 
faculties of the child, and so keep him in mind of his in- 
tellectual weakness. Yet this very circumstance makes it 
all the more important to secure some scope for a free, 
enjoyable consciousness of power. The mode of instruc- 
tion that humiliates the child to the utmost by discourag- 
ing his spontaneous exertion of faculty and insisting on 
the fact of his stupendous ignorance is as fatal to intellect- 
ual development as it is disagreeable. So far as comports 
with the exigencies of teaching, the faculties of the learner 
should be called upon in discovering things, so that he 
may experience that pleasurable consciousness of doing 
something for himself which is the most potent stimulus 
to exertion. 

Not only so, the more the teacher by the influence of 
his personality takes away from the mode of instruction 
all appearance of restraint, and raises learning to the level 
of a dignified pursuit which it is a privilege and honor to 
follow, the more likely are the learners to throw themselves 
heartily into their studies. Children never have such a 
keen sense of growing power as when they are trusted 
with some new and important task. Even the least invit- 
ing kind of work has been known to grow not only pala- 
table but actually desirable when thus invested with the 
semblance of responsibility and dignity.* Children should 
be accustomed to look on each new stadium of study as a 
larger privilege, a recognition of the fact that they have 
more power than they had, and a step onward to the full 
fruition of manhood's functions. 

* Mark Twain gives a delightfully humorous, but at the same time 
strikingly true, illustration of this in the way in which Tom Sawyer 
made the other boys eager to relieve him of the work of whitewashing 
the fence by pointing out that a body does not " get a chance of white- 
washing a fence every day." 



THE EMOTION OF RIVALRY. 315 

Finally, children should be led so far as possible to 
realize the advantages which intellectual development 
brings with it. This was touched on in connection with 
the training of the memory. The growing ability to con- 
verse with others, due to expanding intelligence, is itself no 
small gain to a child. One may often note the look of 
pained bewilderment on a child's face who overhears his 
parents discoursing of what lies too high for his young 
intellectual wing. Most of us can remember as one of the 
most delightful experiences of life the first sense of "grow- 
ing up " when we were allowed to sit up in the evening 
and listen to the older people's book. And, in so far as 
the knowledge acquired at school is felt to bring the 
child nearer the wider and mysterious circle of adult 
ideas, it will acquire a new charm by gratifying his ambi- 
tion. And for a similar reason every discovery of the 
practical utility of knowledge will serve to quicken the 
desire for it. 

Feeling of Rivalry. — Closely connected with the 
feeling of activity is the emotion of rivalry. This, too, 
springs out of conscious activity. It is the feeling which 
attends the putting forth of exertion in competition with 
another. It is the familiar form of emotional excitement 
which accompanies all combat. This excitement is partly 
the result of the more strenuous activity which the stimulus 
of competition evokes. But its chief ingredient is the de- 
light in combat, in proving our superiority to another by 
defeating him in some exercise of strength or skill. Its 
full fruition is the elation of victory. 

The feeling of rivalry is one of the earliest to be devel- 
oped. It has its roots in the instinct of combat, which 
we see clearly illustrated in the play as well as the more 
serious contests of children and young animals. Children 
are much under the sway of this feeling. Association with 
other children gives constant opening for the excitement 
of contest. And many a child that if left to itself would 



316 THE EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL FEELINGS. 

be comparatively inactive is roused to strenuous exertion 
by this stimulus. 

The feeling manifests itself in a variety of forms. In 
some of these its anti-social character or tendency is hardly 
observable, whereas in other forms this is manifest. Much 
of children's activity has an element of competition in it, 
though no distinct feeling of antagonism, leave alone anger, 
is developed. This remark applies to many things they 
do under the stimulus of example and leadership. A child 
that tries his hand at doing something he sees another 
child doing is concerned rather with proving his own abil- 
ity to do something than to gain a victory over a com- 
petitor. The feeling here is one of personal ambition, 
with the impulse of rivalry in the background. The same 
remark applies to much of the later activity of life. 

The feeling becomes more distinct, and shows its anti- 
social character better in those situations of contest proper 
where mastery is directly aimed at. In the case of bodily 
combat, or fighting " in earnest," the feeling of rivalry is 
at its maximum intensity, being sustained and inflamed by 
angry passion. In more friendly contests of physical 
strength or skill, the feeling is purer, anger being absent. 
The anti-social tendency of the feeling, however, is plainly 
seen in the fact that triumph over competitors naturally 
leads on to contemptuous " crowing," while, on the other 
hand, the sting of defeat often secretes within it the germ 
of hatred. In more prolonged contests, as those of the 
school, we commonly observe a tendency in the competi- 
tion to foster hostile feelings toward the rival. In this 
way all contests, as the very name suggests, approximate 
to the situation of hostility. 

The educational treatment of this feeling is a matter of 
peculiar difficulty. It is so strong an incentive to mental 
as well as to bodily exertion, and is so directly fostered 
by the circumstances of the school, that the teacher can 
not afford to do without it. Nor should he seek to do so. 



DANGER OF THE FEELING OF RIVALRY. 



317 



The impulse is one of the most deeply implanted and 
most necessary. It lies at the root of most human activity. 
The teacher is accordingly justified in appealing to it 
within certain limits. 

Being an anti-social feeling, rivalry requires the educa- 
tor's careful watching, lest it grow into a feeling of hos- 
tility and lasting antipathy. This applies with special 
force to the school, where the teaching of numbers to- 
gether offers a wide scope for this feeling. The mode of 
teaching by assigning prizes has the great drawback that 
it tends to develop the impulse of rivalry in excess. A 
boy who gets into the way of looking at a companion as a 
possibly-successful claimant for the prize he covets is 
hardly likely to entertain very kindly feelings toward him. 
As Miss Edgeworth reminds us, superior knowledge is 
dearly acquired at the price of a malevolent disposition.* 

Rivalry is a feeling to be kept in the background. 
Children should be encouraged to excel rather for the 
sake of the attainment itself than for that of taking down 
another. In other words, the scholar's prevailing motive 
should be worthy ambition, or desire to get on, rather than 
the distinctly anti-social impulse of rivalry. As Rousseau 
and others have pointed out, the teacher can further this 
result by his mode of apportioning praise, grounding his 
estimate on a comparison between what the pupil has been 
and what he is, and not between what he is and what 
somebody else is not. In addition to this, the educator 
should seek to counteract the tendency to the indulgence 
of hostile sentiments in any form of competition by devel- 
oping the social feelings, and more particularly sympathy 
with the sorrows of another. In this way the heat of con- 
test will be tempered, and the delight for triumph dashed 
by regret at the humiliation of another ; the selfish feeling 
of rivalry will pass into the more generous sentiment of 
emulation. 

* " Practical Education," chap. x. 



318 THE EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL FEELINGS. 

Love of Approbation and Self-Esteem. — We pass 
now to another and very different type of feeling. In 
what is known as the love of approbation we seem to 
have to do with a feeling of high moral rank, needing to be 
stimulated rather than to be repressed, like the feelings of 
fear, anger, or rivalry. 

The love of approbation is a special form of the more 
general sentiment, love of others' good opinion and of 
praise. Its essential ingredient is the gratification which 
the mind receives from the notice, commendation, and 
good opinion of another. This feeling is instinctive. A 
child a year old may be seen going to its mother to show 
her something he has done, and to obtain her look and 
words of commendation. It has its roots in the same pri- 
mal instinct out of which the other egoistic feelings spring, 
viz., the impulse of self-conservation and self-assertion. 
Praise is the sign of another's recognition of our impor- 
tance or merit, and pleases us by gratifying our instinctive 
tendency to attach importance to ourselves. It is thus 
closely connected with the feeling of self-complacency and 
self-esteem. The instinctive desire for others' good opin- 
ion has probably been built up, or at least strengthened, 
by the forces of heredity. The experiences of many gener- 
ations of the material advantages flowing from others' 
recognition and good opinion would tend to beget an in- 
herited liking and craving for notice and commendation. 
Each child's experience tends, moreover, to deepen the 
instinctive love of approbation by showing how much his 
welfare depends on his winning and keeping others' favor- 
able opinion. 

The disposition to look to others for commendation is 
natural and appropriate to childhood. Just as the child is 
physically dependent, so he is intellectually and morally 
dependent. In early life children can not form independ- 
ent judgments as to the worth of their actions. Hence 
they look to others and lean on their estimates. The in- 



LOVE OF APPROBATION. 



3*9 



stinct is thus of special use in early life by helping to 
quicken ambition at a time when the incentive of self- 
satisfaction is relatively feeble. As Locke has it, reputa- 
tion is the proper guide and encouragement of children 
till they grow able to judge for themselves. 

The desire for others' good opinion is, as we have seen, 
distinctly egoistic. At the same time it has a social side 
as well. For, in desiring to stand well with others, the 
child is paying these a certain respect. Moreover, he has 
to attend to what pleases them and offends them, and so 
is put in the way of reaching a much higher motive, viz., 
the desire to give pleasure to others. 

This double aspect of the feeling reflects itself in the 
unequal dignity of its several forms. A strong craving 
for others' consideration and praise, without any reference 
to the value of the praise, is one of the most disagreeable 
and baneful of moral traits. It makes a child vain of 
what is no worthy subject of pride, as his good looks, 
envious of those who win more than himself, and over- 
bearing toward those who are less fortunate. In its least 
discriminating and more vulgar form, thirst for popular 
applause and glory, it is no doubt a mighty stimulus to 
effort, but it enfeebles the character by inducing a habit of 
estimating things wholly by a reference to what others 
think and extol. 

On the other hand, a discriminating love of others' 
good opinion, a strong sense of the value of certain per- 
sons' approval, is bracing and elevating. Where the de- 
sire for esteem is directed by affection and admiration, its 
influence is one of the highest of educational forces. The 
habit of constantly looking for the " Well done ! " of 
mother or teacher is of the greatest moral value. 

In appealing to this motive, the educator should tem- 
per and restrain the feeling, and keep it from becoming an 
unthinking greediness for mere applause or glory. He 
should enlighten the feeling by pointing out how much 



320 THE EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL FEELINGS. 

more valuable some persons' commendation is than oth- 
ers'. He should be careful, too, in apportioning praise, to 
avoid occasion for envy. Not to recognize effort, merit, 
where such is supposed to exist, is one of the greatest of 
childish sufferings. And to see another praised when the 
child thinks itself entitled to the sweets of commenda- 
tion is an experience prolific of bitter and hostile feel- 
ings. 

Finally, the teacher should remember that the end of 
education is self-reliance and independence. While it 
is well for a child to go by what others say, it is not well 
for a youth to take the measure of his own worth alto- 
gether from others. By sifting and distinguishing" whose 
good opinions are most valuable, a child should be gradu- 
ally forming a standard for independent self-estimation. 
As the school-life nears its close, the habit of looking for 
the teacher's approval should give place to the habit of 
self-scrutiny and self-judgment. Self-esteem and self-sat- 
isfaction are now adequate motives. 

Children vary much in respect of the two related 
feelings, love of praise and self-esteem. Some are much 
more dependent than others on external commendation. 
Each extreme is bad, and should be guarded against. 
Excessive leaning on others' estimates leads, as we have 
seen, to weakness of character. It leaves no room for a 
proper self-respect or pride, in the good sense of this term. 
On the other hand, nothing is more unseemly or a greater 
obstacle to intellectual and moral development than an 
excessive and obstinate self-conceit in the face of others' 
opinion. A priggish child, that has been indulged in 
forming exaggerated estimates of his importance under 
the baneful influence of parental "bringing out," is the 
most unpromising material for the educator. And one of 
the most valuable functions of the school with its larger 
community is to correct such home-bred vanity by intro- 
ducing a higher and less partial standard of reputation, 



THE SENTIMENT OF ATTACHMENT. 



321 



and making the child feel in daily collision with his equals 
and superiors the limits of his attainments. 

Miss Edgeworth, in her excellent chapter on vanity, pride, and am- 
bition, uses the term " vanity" for excessive dependence on others' good 
opinion, " pride " for the higher forms of self-complacency (" Practi- 
cal Education," chap. xi). These distinctions, however, do not per- 
fectly coincide. Vanity is sometimes far in excess of others' opinions, 
and sometimes approximates to a solitary and illusory persuasion of 
worth. Pride is the higher and more intelligent feeling, that can dis- 
criminate what is worthy from what is not, and on this account can, 
when necessary, brave the common and valueless opinions of the multi- 
tudes. 

(B) Social Feelings: Love and Respect— We 

may now pass to the group of emotions known as the 
social feelings. By these are meant the feelings which 
have others as their proper object, and which tend to bind 
individuals together in bonds of affection. 

The feeling of love or attachment to a person is a com- 
plex emotion, containing egoistic as well as more disinter- 
ested elements.* Take, for example, a child's love for his 
mother. At first it is little more than a reflection of the 
physical satisfaction and comforts that he associates with 
her. She is his feeder and his protector ; she lavishes ca- 
resses on him, many of which are pleasant in themselves, 
while others are valuable as signs of a beneficent disposi- 
tion. The early love of a child is thus to a large extent a 
fully developed ''cupboard love." 

A higher form of social feeling appears in what we call 
regard or esteem for others. This has no reference to the 
self, and rests on a consideration of the object in and for 
itself. True regard depends on a perception and apprecia- 
tion of good and valuable qualities, such as wisdom, pru- 
dence, good-nature. Children are greatly impressed by 
the superior knowledge and skill of their parents and 
teachers ; but the recognition of this is more apt to excite 
the cold feeling of awe than the warm emotion of regard. 



322 THE EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL FEELINGS. 

It is only when other and likable qualities from a child's 
point of view combine with these, as, for example, kindly 
manners, graceful bearing, and so forth, that tender feel- 
ing is excited. The love of a child for his parents or for 
his teacher is compounded of a grateful response for per- 
sonal favors, and a more disinterested element of admira- 
tion for superior excellence. 

Sympathy. — The most important ingredient in the 
social feelings is sympathy. This word in its etymology 
(<rvv, with, and 7ra#os, feeling) means fellow-feeling, i. e., 
a participation in or entering into the sorrows and joys 
of others. It forms the noblest ingredient in true affec- 
tion, for love is tested by the desire to please. Where 
it exists it transforms egoistic fondness for a source of 
happiness to ourselves, and mere delight in what is agree- 
able to have near us, into affectionate concern and self- 
denying devotion. Sympathy is not, however, limited by 
the range of tender emotion. We can sympathize with the 
woes of those for whom we have no liking, and even of 
perfect strangers. In this wider and more detached form 
sympathy is synonymous with good feeling, kindness, and 
humanity. 

In its earliest and simplest form sympathy is a mere 
tendency to reflect the feelings which the child sees ex- 
pressed by others. This tendency is clearly connected 
with the impulse of imitation. A child illustrates this 
crude form of sympathy when carried away by the hilar- 
ity of a company of children, or when moved to the ex- 
pression of sadness by seeing his mother dejected. This 
involves no distinct consciousness of another's state of 
mind, but is a species of automatic imitation. Children 
are much under the sway of this emotional contagion. 
The spread of a feeling of hilarity or of indignation 
through a play-ground illustrates the action of this force. 

In its higher and fully developed form sympathy in- 
cludes a distinct idea of another's sorrow or joy, and a 



INFLUENCE OF SYMPATHY. 



323 



responsive or participative feeling. A child that fully 
sympathizes with his mother in distress suffers in company 
with her. This conscious participation in another's suffer- 
ing has as its active result a desire to remove the pain, 
just as though the child were himself overtaken with it. 
And it is this practical identification of ourself with an- 
other which makes the essence of all that we mean by 
kindness, benevolence, and self-sacrifice for others. 

Sympathy commonly involves a certain amount of pain 
to the sympathizer. When we sympathize with another's 
distress we take that distress upon ourselves. Even when 
we enter into another's joy there is often a painful effort 
to suppress the promptings of envy.* But sympathy, 
when accompanied by a flow of tender emotion, becomes 
in a measure pleasurable. There is a certain delight in 
pitying others, as is evident from the part which commis- 
eration plays in the drama and works of fiction. Children 
often prefer " very sad " stories to any others. 

It is, however, to its recipient that sympathy is most 
distinctly pleasurable. He has his pains assuaged and his 
pleasures intensified by another's fellow-feeling. Hence, 
the desire for sympathy often exists in a perfectly selfish 
mind which is quite incapable of requiting it. In children 
the longing for sympathy is often in the inverse ratio of 
the ability to bestow it on others. 

Sympathy seems to strengthen and fix a feeling in the 
mind of the recipient. A child that feels itself aggrieved 
has this feeling confirmed by the sympathizing words of 
another. It acts like a reflector, bending back, and so 
intensifying the rays of emotion. Our habitual feelings, 
our likings, tastes, antipathies, are greatly re-enforced by 
the sympathy of congenial minds. On the other hand, 
the desire to be in sympathy with others acts as a powerful 

* As Jean Paul Richter observes, "in order to feel with another's 
pain, it is enough to be a man ; to feel with another's pleasure, it is 
needful to be an angel." 



3 2 4 



THE EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL FEELINGS. 



assimilative force. In the case of friends thrown much 
together, sympathy is apt to produce a community of feel- 
ings and ideas. 

Conditions of Sympathy. — To sympathize with an- 
other is by no means a natural and instinctive operation. 
It involves a difficult process, viz., an observation of the 
external expression of another's feeling, and an interpreta- 
tion of these outer signs. For the due carrying out of 
this process certain conditions are necessary : (a) To begin 
with, there must be a disposition to observe and look out 
for the signs of others' feelings. A sympathetic mind is 
closely observant of others. Observation is habitually 
swayed and directed by a special interest in others. 
{b) Again, we can not sympathize unless we ourselves have 
felt, and can recall our experience. To enter into an- 
other's sorrow presupposes that we understand the expres- 
sion of it, and this involves the recalling of our own sor- 
rows, (c) To this memory of personal happiness and 
unhappiness must be united a sympathetic imagination, 
a readiness to feel ourselves in the place of another, and 
realize situations and feelings differing in some respects 
from anything that we have ourselves experienced. 

From this bare enumeration of the chief conditions of 
sympathy we can understand how it is that the young are 
commonly so deficient in it. They want the human inter- 
est that would prompt them to observe others closely, and 
they are without the emotional experience necessary to 
the construing of the outer signs of feeling. Much of the 
sorrow and the joy of adult life is a sealed book to the 
child. Moreover, sympathy is excluded, or at least greatly 
narrowed, at first by the preponderance of selfish interests 
and occupations, and by the anti-social feelings. The 
promptings of antipathy, triumph, social prejudice, restrict 
the outgoings of pity, while envy keeps back the impulse 
to rejoice in the joy of others. 

The germ of social feeling shows itself early in life. 



SYMPATHY ENLARGED BY CULTURE. 



325 



A child less than two months will smile at his nurse, a 
fact that suggests an instinctive sociability. Imitative re- 
flection of an expressed feeling, e. g., by depressing cor- 
ners of mouth when nurse begins to cry (Darwin), may 
be detected by the beginning of the eighth month. A 
deeper and more intelligent sympathy shows itself in the 
second year, as pity called forth by simple forms of dis- 
tress, such as hunger, cold, etc., which are easily intelligi- 
ble to the child. Among the first recipients of this early 
childish sympathy are its pet animals. It is easy for a 
child to enter into the experiences of physical want and 
satisfaction which make up animal life. Hence, in part, 
the charm of animal stories for the young.* Among 
human beings those who are bound to the child by the 
ties of love and daily companionship naturally come in for 
the first sympathy. Fellow-feeling for outsiders is a much 
later development. The circle of sympathy gradually ex- 
pands from the home as its center. The range of sympa- 
thy is bounded by the child's store of knowledge and the 
power of his imagination. Hence, culture enlarges the 
area of sympathy, while reciprocally the human interest 
which springs out of sympathy is one great motive to a 
study of human life and experience as unfolded in biogra- 
phy, history, etc. 

Uses of Sympathy. — The force of sympathy is 
rightly looked on as one of the most valuable agencies in 
education. It is needed both as an aid to intellectual de- 
velopment, and still more as a means of moral growth. 

As a stimulus to study, sympathy is a strong incentive. 
Here the first thing is to establish a relation of sympathy 
between the teacher and the pupils. In this the teacher 
must take the lead by showing sympathy with the child. 

* I have known a child of twenty-one months burst into tears at 
the sight of a dead dog taken out of a pond. On the nature of sympa- 
thy with animals, see M. Perez, " First Three Years of Childhood," p. 
75, and following. 



326 THE EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL FEELINGS. 

He can enter into the child's experiences, but he can not 
as yet expect the child to understand his feelings. This 
calling forth of affection by showing affection is difficult, 
for children have not the intelligence needed to appreciate 
how much is done for them by those who have charge of 
them, and are disposed to look at the restraints of disci- 
pline as so much unkindness. As Miss Edgeworth re- 
marks, " gratitude is one of the most certain, but one of 
the latest, rewards which preceptors and parents should 
expect from their pupils." And it is evident that the 
teacher has fewer resources at his command than the par- 
ent for winning the warm affection of the child. Still, 
much may be done. The child has his hardships at school. 
Study is not always a delight, especially at the outset. 
Here is the teacher's opportunity. The closer he comes 
to the learner, in kindly appreciation of his special diffi- 
culties, the more he will call forth childish gratitude. The 
severity of the tutor and the disciplinarian may well be 
mitigated on occasion by active participation in childish 
pursuits. 

In these ways, by proving himself the child's friend, the 
teacher may in time win a responsive sympathy and a 
habit of consideration from the learner. The securing of 
this sympathy of the child is of the first consequence to 
success in teaching. The wish to please is one of the 
most valuable spurs to intellectual industry. A child that 
has real affection for his teacher will, partly by uncon- 
scious absorption or imitation, partly by an active desire 
to understand and participate in the feelings of one whom 
he loves, gradually catch something of his spirit, and be 
affected by his enthusiasm. I have known boys taking 
eagerly to studies that were rather distasteful than attract- 
ive under the influence of a strong affection for their 
tutor. 

Hardly inferior to this influence of sympathy between 
teacher and learner is that of a sympathy between the 



SYMPATHY AN AID IN EDUCATION. 



327 



learners themselves. A child brought into a class which 
exhibits a lively interest in learning will, by the force of 
contagion, be infected by something of the prevailing tone 
of feeling. Bright, eager class-mates are a potent stimu- 
lus to the individual child. This is one important in- 
gredient in the influence of numbers in education. Where 
the relations between the learners grows closer, and affec- 
tion is called forth, a new and valuable force working in 
the direction of intellectual industry is supplied. Many 
a young intelligence has brightened under the genial in- 
fluence of sympathetic contact with a more developed and 
stronger mind. 

While sympathy is thus valuable as an aid to intellect- 
ual training, it is a still more vital element in moral train- 
ing. Love for the parent or teacher provides the strong- 
est safeguard against wrong-doing. To an affectionate 
child the wounding of the heart of one whom he loves is 
intense suffering. The influence of a high moral charac- 
ter acts through the desire for sympathy. The child imi- 
tates and tries to be like the person he loves and reveres 
because he wants to be in unison with him. In addition 
to this, as we shall see presently, sympathy with others 
generally forms an important element in a good moral dis- 
position. To draw out the sympathies of the young, and 
so to bring under the selfish and anti-social feelings, is a 
chief part of moral education. 

The work of educating the sympathies calls for special 
care. The home offers a wider scope than the school for 
the full manifestation of sympathy in active kindness and 
mutual help. The parent should guard against a habit of 
indulging human feeling with no proportionate readiness 
to work for the relief of suffering. Hence the feeling of 
pity should not be wholly or chiefly called forth at first by 
touching stories, but rather by actual instances of suffering 
which offer scope for benevolent exertion. It is only too 
easy to stimulate the externals of kind feeling without a 



328 THE EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL FEELINGS. 

genuine spirit of benevolence, and the educator should 
rather repress than encourage what may be called theatri- 
cal tears in young children. 

The benevolent feelings, and the sentiment of human- 
ity which is their highest product, should be cultivated in 
connection with those studies which have to do with hu- 
man life and its products, and more especially history and 
literature. And here the aim of the educator should be 
to widen the range of sympathy, to give a finer insight 
into the varied experiences of cur race, and to exercise 
the young mind in constructively realizing the less famil- 
iar and intelligible forms of human sorrow and joy. 

APPENDIX. 
On the egoistic and the social feelings of childhood, see Perez, " The 
First Three Years of Childhood," chap, iii ; and on their educational 
bearings consult Bain, " Education as a Science," chap, iii ; on the 
special cultivation of sympathy, see Miss Edgeworth, " Practical Edu- 
cation," chap, x, and Madame Necker, " L'Education," livre v, 
chap. iv. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE HIGHER SENTIMENTS. 

In the present chapter we shall be concerned with the 
third and highest order of emotion, the abstract senti- 
ments. The full development of these belongs to the 
period of adolescence and maturity ; but the germs appear 
in early life, and it is an important part of education to 
develop and strengthen them. 

The Intellectual Sentiment. — The first of these 
sentiments is one with which the educator is specially 
concerned in connection with intellectual culture, viz., the 
intellectual sentiment. This includes various feelings that 
grow up about and attach themselves to the pursuit and 
attainment of knowledge of different kinds. They are 
commonly spoken of as the pleasures of knowledge, and 
when developed into the permanent form of an affection 
they constitute the love of truth. In their relation to the 
will as a stimulus or incentive to action they are known 
as curiosity or the desire for knowledge. 

Feeling of Ignorance and Wonder. — It is com- 
monly said that the desire for knowledge begins with a 
sense of ignorance or a feeling of perplexity in face of the 
unknown. This in itself is a painful feeling. A child 
that becomes aware, e. g., by overhearing the talk of 
others, that there are things he knows nothing or little of 
is, for the moment, rendered uncomfortable and discon- 
tented. 



330 THE HIGHER SENTIMENTS. 

In a somewhat different way this feeling of dissatis- 
faction arises in presence of things that are new, strange, 
and puzzling. Take, for example, the first sight of a rain- 
bow. The child is first struck by the novelty and beauty 
of the phenomenon. This constitutes a mode of pleasur- 
able excitement which we call wonder. The child's mind 
may stop here, contenting itself with the exhilarating ef- 
fect of the marvelous. This is what happens with emo- 
tional children and adults in whom the love of the marvel- 
ous is strong. Hence the feeling cf wonder in its more 
violent and intoxicating form is opposed to the desire to 
know and to scientific curiosity. When, however, the 
feeling of wonder does not thus master and intoxicate the 
mind, the very strangeness of the phenomenon stimulates 
the mind to inquiry. Thus the child asks what the rain- 
bow is, and how it came there. That is to say, out of a 
feeling of surprise and wonder is developed an impulse of 
curiosity. 

Pleasure of Gaining Knowledge. — While the love 
of knowledge thus takes its rise in a painful feeling — the 
sense of ignorance or of perplexity — it is greatly reinforced 
by the pleasurable feelings which accompany the attain- 
ment of knowledge. As was pointed out above, all intel- 
lectual exertion, provided it is not carried to the point of 
fatigue, is pleasurable. Each kind of intellectual activity 
is accompanied by its proper satisfaction. Thus the ex- 
ercise of the observing powers brings with it the enjoy- 
ment of sense-activity, e. g., the pleasures of color and of 
movement. The exercise of each of the two great intel- 
lectual functions, discrimination and assimilation, is at- 
tended with a peculiar satisfaction. There is a gratifica- 
tion in contrasting objects, and in noting the finer shades 
of difference among things. On the other hand, the con- 
necting of unlike things by some bond of affinity supplies 
another and still more vivid form of gratification. There 
is the exhilaration of surprise and novelty, and a peculiarly 



THE PLEASURE OF DISCOVERY. 



331 



agreeable sense of intellectual movement and command 
in assimilating and so unifying things hitherto regarded as 
unlike and disconnected. Children often betray their 
susceptibility to this feeling in the look of wondering de- 
light which accompanies the discovery of some real or 
fanciful resemblance among objects.* 

The full enjoyment of intellectual activity is known in 
those more prolonged operations where the mind is busily 
searching for some new fact or truth. The passive recep- 
tion of a new piece of knowledge, even when the pains of 
ignorance or of perplexity have preceded, gives but little 
delight compared with the active discovery of it for one's 
self. A boy who works out unaided a problem in geome- 
try has an amount of satisfaction wholly incommensurable 
with that of the boy who has the solution at once supplied 
him. In this case the full activity of the mind is awak- 
ened, trains of ideas pass rapidly through the mind, and 
there is the glow of intellectual excitement. In addition 
to this there is the pleasure of pursuing an end, the delight 
of intellectual chase. A moderate amount of difficulty 
and delay only stimulates the intellectual powers to a 
higher tension, and so adds to the zest. At the end there 
is the joyous feeling of successful attainment, of difficulties 
overcome, and of triumph. 

Finally, as pointed out above, the mastery and posses- 
sion of knowledge is accompanied by a pleasurable con- 
sciousness of expansion and growth. The mind of the 
learner feels itself enriched by a new possession. And the 
new attainment is felt to be a source of personal strength. 
It has lessened for the inquirer the region of the unknown 
and obscure, and adds to his self-confidence in confront- 
ing the world. In many cases, too, the new possession 
gives the mind a firmer hold on previous acquisitions. 
Thus the discovery of a new general truth throws light on 

* The delight which the mind thus experiences in discovering new 
identities is seen plainly in the charm of poetical simile. 



332 



THE HIGHER SENTIMENTS. 



facts which were once obscure, and serves to bind many 
detached fragments of knowledge by one uniting princi- 
ple. And as a last result, the new acquisition gives the 
learner the pleasurable sense of increased practical effi- 
ciency. The ultimate function of all knowledge is to 
guide action, and the heightened sense of power which 
attends increase of knowledge includes a certain imagin- 
ative realization of its many practical applications. 

Children's Curiosity.— The delight in learning and 
extending the range of knowledge which we have just 
analyzed is the result of a long process of growth. To 
love truth for its own sake, and to be willing to take pains 
to pursue it in whatsoever direction it invites to pursuit, 
is a rare attainment even among adults. Nevertheless 
children betray most distinctly the germs of these feelings. 

The very situation of children among their new sur- 
roundings renders them highly susceptible to the effects 
of wonder and curiosity. The objects and processes of 
their environment are new to them and attract their at- 
tention. They have not yet formed habits of indifference 
to what is customary ; nor has the narrowing business of 
life circumscribed their intellectual interest in things. 
Hence, the fact, familiar to every parent, that children 
put so many odd, out-of-the-way questions on matters 
that seem to have no connection with their personal in- 
terests. 

Much of this wondering curiosity is no doubt fleeting 
and fugitive enough. The feeling of ignorance is not fully 
excited, and the desire to know is not sustained by a 
definite and sufficient interest in the particular subject. 
Hence the further experience of parents that the young 
questioner often tires of his subject before the answer is 
given, and wanders off to fresh fields of inquiry. 

A real feeling of inquisitiveness, sufficient to sustain a 
prolonged act of attention, must be supported by some 
special fund of interest. As already pointed out, intel- 



INTELLECTUAL FEELING. 333 

lectual interest naturally takes its rise out of other kinds 
(personal, practical, aesthetic). The personal experiences 
and predominant feelings and tastes of the child deter- 
mine the directions of curiosity and of the wish to learn 
about things. The child has little or no love of knowledge 
in the abstract ; but he has the germ of a number of loves 
corresponding with different departments or directions of 
knowledge. Thus, as Madame Necker observes, his de- 
light in pretty objects, especially flowers, shells, and birds, 
forms a natural basis for curiosity as to the facts of natural 
history. Again, the love of the marvelous, the impulses 
of adventure, and the germs of social feeling and sympathy 
constitute a natural support for an intellectual interest in 
human action, and in history.* 

Growth of Intellectual Feeling. — In this way the 
child's curiosity and appreciation of knowledge tend from 
the first to crystallize in definite forms, which we call his 
special intellectual interests. The direction of these is 
fixed partly by natural tastes, and partly by the special 
circumstances of his life. What is seen every day, and is 
connected closely with the home experience, naturally 
supplies the nucleus for a permanent intellectual interest. 
Thus the son of a farmer naturally grows inquisitive about 
horses, crops, and so forth. Much, too, is due to the in- 
fluence of example and of unconscious sympathy. The 
departments of knowledge on which the father or the 
teacher sets value tend to become those of most interest 
to the child. 

The growth of intellectual feeling may be measured in 
two directions : (a) the deepening of interest in certain 
definite directions, e. g., natural science, language ; and 
{b) the widening of interests, and the development of a 
general impartial curiosity in things. These two direc- 

* On the nature of childish curiosity see M. Perez, " First Three 
Years of Childhood," chap, vi, sect. 1 ; Bain, " Education as a Sci- 
ence," p. 90, etc. 



334 



THE HIGHER SENTIMENTS. 



tions of development are in a measure distinct and even 
opposed. Absorption in special lines of inquiry is fatal 
to a general spirit of inquisitiveness. 

In seeking to develop the intellectual feelings and in- 
terests the educator must follow the order of nature. It 
is vain to look for a keen and dominant thirst for knowl- 
edge at first ; for such a feeling, except in the case of a 
few highly gifted children, is a slow product. The young 
are unable to realize all the pleasure of intellectual activ- 
ity, and they can not at first appreciate its great practical 
utility. Hence, adventitious aids must be resorted to ; 
and here the principle of association should be made use 
of, and a certain liking for intellectual pursuits produced 
by making all its accompaniments as agreeable as possible. 
A pleasant voice and manner in a teacher may do much 
to recommend an indifferent subject to the notice of his 
pupils. 

At the same time, it is possible to depend too much on 
extraneous and associated interest. Our modern system 
of school competition, with its machinery of examinations, 
published lists, and so forth, is apt to suggest to the learner 
that the value of learning is altogether relative and de- 
pendent. 

The educator should from the first aim at exciting a 
love of knowledge for its own sake and a desire to attain 
truth. This end may be secured to some extent by the 
influence of example and sympathy. A teacher that mani- 
fests a genuine and a keen interest in the subjects he 
teaches will as a rule have interested pupils. In addition 
to this the educator must make the most of children's 
spontaneous impulses of curiosity, watching their direc- 
tions, and so learning how best to fix interest and inquiry 
in definite channels. As supplementary to this, the edu- 
cator should try to retain something of that wide detached 
curiosity of the first years of life, and foster a disposition 
to examine and inquire about things generally. 



^ESTHETIC PLEASURES. 335 

The ^Esthetic Sentiment— The second of the 
three sentiments to be now considered is known as the 
aesthetic emotion, and also as the pleasures of beauty or 
taste. These include a variety of pleasurable feelings, 
namely, those answering to what is pretty, graceful, har- 
monious, or sublime in natural objects or in works of art. 
To these pleasures there correspond the disagreeable feel- 
ings excited by what is ugly, discordant, and so forth. 

These pleasures are the accompaniments of impres- 
sions made on the mind by external objects through one 
of the two higher senses, sight and hearing, and more par- 
ticularly sight. The pleasure arises immediately from the 
perception or recognition of some agreeable feature or 
quality in the object, as the brilliance of a color, the purity 
of a tone, the symmetry of a temple. 

The aesthetic enjoyments rank high among our pleas- 
ures. They contrast with the lower pleasures of sense 
and appetite in their refinement or purity. They consti- 
tute a surplus, so to speak, over the daily satisfaction which 
we experience in connection with the necessary work of 
life. The delight in what is beautiful owes nothing to any 
feeling of the usefulness of the object. The cultivation 
and gratification of the aesthetic feelings is thus closely 
analogous to play, activity engaged in for its own sake. 
And lastly, the pleasures we experience in observing the 
beautiful aspects of nature or works of art are eminently 
a socializing gratification. Numbers may together enjoy 
a beautiful picture or a piece of music, and the pleasure 
be greatly increased by interchanges of sympathy.* 

Elements of ^Esthetic Pleasure. — The pleasure 
which arises from the contemplation of a beautiful object, 
whether in nature or in art, is of various kinds and of 
different degrees of dignity, according to the rank of the 

* The child testifies to this social character of the feeling in its in- 
stinctive impulse to call its mother's attention to what is pretty. See 
Perez, " The First Three Years of Childhood," p. 271. 



336 THE HIGHER SENTIMENTS. 

mental faculty specially concerned. (i) The simplest 
mode of such pleasure is the sensuous enjoyment which 
arises out of a perfect stimulation of the sense-organ con- 
cerned. The pleasure of brilliant light and of color, of 
graceful curve, and of pure musical tone, illustrates this 
sensuous element. (2) A higher grade of aesthetic grati- 
fication is connected with a conscious mental activity in 
discovering pleasing relations among these sensuous ma- 
terials, and more particularly the combination of a variety 
of pleasing details in a worthy whole. This involves the 
exercise of perceptive faculty. This element of aesthetic 
pleasure is realized in the appreciation of relations of con- 
trast and harmony among colors, of beauties of space- 
form, or form as it presents itself to the eye, including 
symmetry and proportion ; of beauties of time-form, or 
the pleasing grouping of sounds in succession, including 
rhythm, meter, together with those arrangements of musi- 
cal tone which we call tune or melody. (3) Besides these 
presentative elements in the enjoyment of beauty we have 
representative elements. These include the pleasures of 
suggestion and of imagination. Much of the charm of 
natural things, as the flower by the wayside, the bubbling 
sound of a stream, the fragment of ruined castle, depends 
on association with what is pleasing, touching, or sublime. 

Finally, the enjoyment of a work of art depends to a 
considerable extent on the appreciation of its fidelity to 
truth and life. The imitative arts, more particularly 
painting, dramatic spectacle, and poetry, aim at present- 
ing some aspect of nature or human life by the medium 
of artistic semblance, and the resulting enjoyment arises 
in part from a recognition of its verisimilitude. Here 
aesthetic pleasure connects itself with the properly intel- 
lectual gratification of apprehending truth. 

Esthetic Judgment : Taste. — We commonly speak 
indifferently of a feeling for what is beautiful, or of a per- 
ception or recognition of beauty. And this shows that 



^ESTHETIC DEVELOPMENT. 



337 



the element of feeling is here closely connected with an 
intellectual process. The first appreciation is largely- 
emotional. That is, we say a thing is beautiful because 
the contemplation of it affects us agreeably. This may be 
called an automatic or unconscious aesthetic judgment. 
A conscious or intelligent judgment includes more than 
this, namely, a process of comparison of object with ob- 
ject, and a recognition of certain aspects of these, such as 
purity of color or elegance of form, as the specific source 
of the enjoyment. 

Standard of Taste.— The sphere of taste is pro- 
verbially uncertain. Individuals and communities differ 
widely in their aesthetic preferences. Yet amid these va- 
riations certain uniformities and laws of taste are dis- 
coverable. Such principles supply a standard of taste 
by help of which the individual may regulate his decis- 
ions and judge correctly. The standard is built up first 
of all by observing what the best judges of all times have 
approved, and supplementing this by reflection on the true 
nature of beauty and art. 

We may say that taste is wrong when it approves any- 
thing that the normal nature of man condemns, such as a 
distinctly discordant arrangement of sounds or colors. 
From mere Tightness or soundness of taste we have to dis- 
tinguish refinement or discriminative delicacy. This an- 
swers to the degree of culture of the faculty attained. A 
child's simple aesthetic preferences may be right, or in 
good taste, though from an adult's point of view they are 
lacking in refinement or discrimination. 

Growth of ./Esthetic Faculty. — The feeling for 
beauty in its higher and more refined form is a late attain- 
ment, and presupposes an advanced stage of intellectual 
and emotional culture. At the beginning of life there is 
no clear separation of what is beautiful from what is sim- 
ply pleasing to the individual. As in the history of the 
race, so in that of the individual, the sense of beauty 
15 



338 THE HIGHER SENTIMENTS. 

slowly extricates itself from pleasurable consciousness in 
general, and differentiates itself from the sense of what is 
personally useful and agreeable.* 

The order of development of the aesthetic feeling an- 
swers in its main outline to the threefold grade of enjoy- 
ment indicated above. The infant's first crude experience 
of the delight of beauty is supplied by some new and rav- 
ishing sense-impression, as the dance of the sunlight on 
the wall, the brilliant coloring of a tulip, the sweet sound 
of a bird's song, and so on. The intellectual apprecia- 
tion of form (symmetry and proportion) presupposes the 
development of the powers of observing and comparing, 
and so comes later. Children feel at first the charm of 
this and that detail in isolation, but have no power of 
grasping the relations of a number of parts in a beautiful 
whole.f And lastly, the enjoyment of the suggestions 
and ideal significance of things is only possible when ex- 
periences have multiplied, and the representative powers 
have grown in strength. The child does not feel the 
pathos of the ruined castle or the sublimity of the mount- 
ain peak, because experience and thought have not yet 
invested the objects with numerous and rich associations. 

While we may thus roughly mark off the sensuous as 
the first stage, and so on, we must remember that each 
side of the aesthetic faculty advances concurrently. There 
is a gradual transition from crude and coarse to refined 
pleasure, from simple to complex enjoyment, under each 
head. Thus the young child takes pleasure at first only 
in the more striking and vivid sensuous effects of light 
and sound. Then, as his discriminative sensibility devel- 

* See M. Perez, " The First Three Years of Childhood," p. 270, and 
following. 

f Hence, as Madame Necker observes (" L'Education Progressive," 
ii, 158), a child has no sense of the total picturesque charm of a land- 
scape. The sense of time-form, or rhythm, is, however, very early 
developed. See Perez, ibid., p. 42. 



GROWTH OF ESTHETIC FACULTY. 339 

ops, he begins to detect more unobtrusive charms, as the 
quiet beauty of subdued coloring, and the worth of pure 
color, and so forth. Similarly, his appreciation of juxta- 
positions of colors and sounds, and of relations of form, 
both in space and time, grows in refinement. Finally, as 
his experience widens and his knowledge increases, the 
meanings and suggestions of things grow in richness. A 
flower acquires a deeper charm as the mind comes to un- 
derstand its delicate structure and its short, fragile life, 
and as it becomes invested with a myriad happy associa- 
tions of early life, and with a moral and religious signifi- 
cance. 

While the aesthetic faculty thus develops on the passive 
or appreciative side, it asserts itself as an active or creative 
impulse as well. This impulse, which has a triple root in 
the love of activity, of imitating nature, and of expressing 
or embodying forth some internal idea, is among the old- 
est instincts of the race, and betrays itself very early in 
the life of the individual. Children show even in their 
first year a germ of artistic creativeness. They enter into 
the spirit of playful acting ; * they exhibit an impulse to 
fashion or arrange things with their tiny hands. Children's 
play is, as already observed, a naive, unconscious sort of 
art-production. As their taste and their powers of exe- 
cution progress, they derive a greater enjoyment from the 
production of such artistic effects. And on the other 
hand, the exercise of these creative impulses tends very 
materially to strengthen and widen the interest in con- 
templating art-products generally. 

Again, as the child's aesthetic experience, or his famil- 
iarity with what is beautiful in nature and art, deepens 
and widens, his faculty of judgment will grow more firm 

* Mr. Darwin observes that his boy, when about thirteen months 
old, showed " a touch of the dramatic art " by pretending to be angry 
and slapping his father for the sake of the agreeable denoiiment, a kiss. 
See " Mind," vol. ii (1877), p. 291. 



340 



THE HIGHER SENTIMENTS. 



and competent. From the first the child is building up 
more or less consciously, a standard of aesthetic reference. 
This will be in part the outcome of his individual tastes 
and preferences, for every child tends to impose these as 
a law on others ; but in the main it will reflect the external 
authority under which he lives, that is, the artistic models 
in the shape of pictures, dress, etc., by which he has been 
habitually surrounded, and the current maxims of his par- 
ents, teachers, etc. But as his tastes develop, his range 
of artistic experience and knowledge widens, and his pow- 
ers of individual reflection gain in strength, he will grad- 
ually improve on this first temporary standard, and, by 
gaining a deeper insight into the real and universally rec- 
ognized grounds of aesthetic and artistic worth, grow in 
clearness and precision of judgment. 
p» The Education of Taste. — As already pointed out, 
the education of the feelings culminates in the development 
of taste. ^Esthetic culture owes its educational import- 
ance to the fact that by refining the feelings, detaching 
them from personal concerns, and connecting them with 
objects of common perception, it greatly widens and ele- 
vates the child's sources of happiness.* 

The development of taste implies certain external con- 
ditions. Among these, education plays an important part. 
The social surroundings exert, in early life at least, a po- 
tent influence. As already pointed out, the child takes 
its cue as to what is pretty from what it sees about it and 
hears others approve. Hence, by controlling the artistic 
environment and by direct teaching, much may be done 
by the educator to mold the growing taste of the young. 

To begin with, since the aesthetic faculty, like the other 
faculties, grows by exercise on suitable material, it is im- 
portant to surround the child from the first with what is 

* On the effect of aesthetic training in moderating and purifying 
the feelings, and so preparing the way for moral education, see Dittes, 
" Erziehungs- und Unterrichtslehre," § 56. 



THE EDUCATION OF TASTE. 



341 



pretty, attractive, and tasteful. In developing the taste, 
as the other faculties, we must remember that it is first 
impressions which produce the most lasting effect. In 
early life the foundations of a love of natural scenery 
should be laid by steeping the young mind as far as possi- 
ble in the impressions of nature, the colors of earth, water, 
and sky, and the manifold pleasing sounds of stream, wood, 
and living creatures. It is only by such early companion- 
ship with Nature that the most valuable sesthetic associa- 
tions can be built up.* 

In the second place, much may be done by the mother 
or other educator by way of directing the child's attention 
to what is beautiful in his natural surroundings, pointing 
out those aspects of objects which are fitted to please the 
eye and mind, and so calling the aesthetic faculty into ex- 
ercise. The training of the sensuous side of the faculty 
is in itself a considerable work. We all tend to overlook 
the exact character of sense-impressions, the finer details 
of light and shade, color, and line in objects, owing to the 
superior interest of their suggestions, namely, the objects 
themselves, and their uses, etc. A child looking at a tree- 
trunk overgrown with moss, or an old wall tinted with 
lichens and flowers, is apt to pass by these unobtrusive 
details, and to wonder how high the tree or wall is, and 
whether he could climb it. In order to see exactly what 
is present to the eye, a special interest in sense-impres- 
sions, and a habit of close attention is necessary, and 
hence the educator of the aesthetic faculty should seek to 
develop that finer and rarer sort of observing power which 
finds nothing too common or insignificant. The educator 
may do much, too, in directing the child's attention to the 
beautiful forms of objects, to the noble symmetry of the 

* On the evils accruing to children in our large towns from the love 
of country surroundings, and the possibility of alleviating these, see an 
eloquent paper by Archdeacon Farrar on "Art in Schools," published 
in the "Journal of Education," December, 1884. 



342 THE HIGHER SENTIMENTS. 

mountain, the varying curve of the river's course, the se- 
vere regularities of the crystal, and the graceful propor- 
tions of living forms. Nor should he fail, by exercising 
the child's imaginative and reflective faculties, as well as 
by direct instruction, to bring out those rich and poetical 
suggestions in things which make up so much of their aes- 
thetic value. 

While the child's faculty of taste is thus being devel- 
oped in the contemplation of nature's beauty, it should be 
further educated by habitual contact with good art. And 
here the arrangements of the home, the dress, and so 
forth, should be such as to awaken the first sense of what 
is graceful and harmonious. The influence of a refined 
mother, who studies what is pleasing and harmonious in 
the home and her own appearance and manner, may be 
all-important in exciting a nascent feeling for beauty, and 
giving the first direction to the child's standard of taste. 
More than this, the child should from the first be educated 
in the appreciation of the fine arts. The picture-books of 
the nursery should be artistic, so that from the first the 
child's mind may be familiarized with and accustomed to 
what is life-like and graceful in art. The cultivation of a 
taste for music and for poetry presupposes a special train- 
ing by help of the best productions of these arts. 

This artistic training, to be complete, should call forth 
the productive impulses of the child. And this in part 
because all artistic skill is a source of pure and elevating 
enjoyment both to the producer himself and to others ; 
and in part because a certain degree of familiarity with 
the elementary processes of artistic production is neces- 
sary to a deep appreciation of what is beautiful. 

In training the aesthetic faculty great care is needed 
lest we hurry the process of natural and normal growth. 
Children who have a too refined standard of beauty set 
before them are apt to affect a taste for what they do not 
really care about. We should be careful not to force our 



THE CULTIVATION OF TASTE. 343 

higher standard of what is beautiful on children. They 
should not only be allowed but even encouraged to relish 
the simple aesthetic enjoyments proper to their age, as the 
charm of brilliant colors, and forcible contrasts of color, 
of simple symmetrical patterns, and so on. Great care 
must be taken not to overrefine their taste, to deaden the 
healthy instinctive feelings, and so unduly narrow the 
region of enjoyment. 

With respect to the exercise of the aesthetic judgment, 
children should be encouraged to be natural, and to pro- 
nounce opinion for themselves. The teacher should never 
forget the great individual differences of sensibility and 
taste, and should allow a legitimate scope to independent 
reflection and judgment. Taste is the region which most 
safely admits of freedom of opinion, and constitutes, there- 
fore, in early life the best field for the exercise of individ- 
ual judgment. On the other hand, the child should not 
be allowed to become overconfident and opinionated, and 
intolerant of others' sentiments, but by instruction in the 
diversities of taste led to entertain his individual prefer- 
ences with a becoming modesty. 

The cultivation of the aesthetic sentiment may enter 
into almost every department of education. On one side 
it stands in close connection with intellectual training. 
The feeling for what is graceful or elegant may be devel- 
oped to some extent in connection with such seemingly 
prosaic exercises as learning to read and to write ; and by 
this means a certain artistic interest may be infused into 
the occupation. The teaching of the use of the mother- 
tongue in vocal recitation and written composition offers 
a wider field for the exercise of the aesthetic sense in a 
growing feeling for rhetorical effect and for literary style. 
Many branches of study tend to develop the aesthetic feel- 
ings, and owe much of their interest to this circumstance. 
This is pre-eminently true of classical studies and of liter- 
ature generally, which, as already pointed out, specially 



344 THE HIGHER SENTIMENTS. 

exercise the imagination on its aesthetic side. Physical 
geography may be so taught as to elicit a feeling for the 
picturesque and the sublime in natural scenery, and his- 
tory, so as to call forth a feeling of sympathetic appreci- 
ation for the picturesque lights and shadows of human 
life and experience, and admiration for what is great and 
noble in human conduct and character. Even the more 
abstract studies, as geometry and physical science, may be 
made a means of evoking and strengthening a feeling for 
what is beautiful, not only in material objects (e. g., regu- 
larity and symmetry in geometric figures, beauties of form 
and color in minerals, plants, and animals), but in ideas, 
and their logical relations. 

On another side, the training of the aesthetic sense 
comes into contact with moral training. To adopt and 
practice, in mode of dress, in speech, and generally in 
manners, what is agreeable to the aesthetic feelings of 
others, is a matter of so much social importance that it 
is rightly looked on as one of the lesser moral obligations. 
Hence the stress laid in the early period of training on the 
cultivation of naturalness and fitness in carriage, move- 
ment, and speech, on neatness in dress, etc., and on the 
graces of courtesy. 

It is to be observed finally, that in training the aes- 
thetic faculty a natural order is to be followed answering 
to the development of faculty. Thus it is evident that 
tune singing, or singing in unison, must precede part sing- 
ing, which presupposes the development of a sense of 
musical harmony. Similarly, a certain training in the use 
of colors may appropriately precede exercises in draw- 
ing. 

Ethical or Moral Sentiment. — We now come to 
the last of the three sentiments, that known as the ethical 
or moral sentiment. This feeling is commonly spoken of 
under a variety of names, such as the feeling of moral 
obligation or the sentiment of duty, the feeling of rever- 



THE ETHICAL SENTIMENT. 345 

ence for the moral law, the sentiment of moral approba- 
tion and disapprobation, the love of virtue. 

The moral sentiment has for its proper object human 
actions, and the motives and character which underlie 
these. It is called forth by a perception of, and reflection 
upon, actions which we commonly distinguish as good and 
bad, and more narrowly as right and wrong. These ac- 
tions may be our own or those of another. We approve 
what is right in ourselves and in others. Right action 
may be provisionally defined as that which conforms to 
the moral law. 

The essential ingredient in the moral sentiment is a 
feeling of obligation or of " oughtness." In approving 
an action as right we feel that it binds us, tha't we are not 
free to do or not to do it, as in the case of indifferent 
actions. We acknowledge our allegiance to an authority 
outside of us. 

The moral sentiment is in a pre-eminent sense a social 
feeling. The sentiment of duty is bound up with the 
individual's social relations. The child's first conscious- 
ness of obligation is the recognition of others' authority 
over him ; and the highest form of moral sentiment is 
based on the sympathetic realization of others' interests 
and claims, and the recognition of the supremacy of the 
common good over the interests of the individual. 

This feeling assumes one of two unlike forms, as the 
action approved or disapproved is our own or another's. 
In the former case we have the pleasing consciousness of 
fulfilling the obligation that binds us, or the painful sense 
of violating it. In its fully developed phase of con- 
science, feeling of remorse, etc., this sentiment involves a 
clear reflection on self, its capabilities and responsibilities. 
In the latter case the feeling has no direct reference to 
self. In condemning another's act as wrong, we are not 
realizing our own subjection to the moral law, but rather 
asserting its authority over another. 



346 THE HIGHER SENTIMENTS. 

While the feeling of moral disapproval and approval is 
one and the same throughout in its essential ingredient, 
it assumes a variety of phases according to the particular 
nature of the action which is its object, and the special 
associations and feelings it calls up. Thus in the feeling 
with which we condemn a lie there is a distinctly intel- 
lectual ingredient, a painful shock of contradiction ; in 
the sentiment with which we denounce a piece of wanton 
cruelty there is an ingredient of anger ; and so on. 

Lastly, there is the important difference between the 
bare approval of what is a duty, and the warmer feeling of 
commendation or praise which we experience when con- 
templating a virtuous act, that is, one which clearly ex- 
ceeds the limits of duty. This feeling has an aesthetic 
element in it, viz., admiration of what is rare and lofty. 
In the case of our own actions this difference shows itself 
as the contrast between a bare self-satisfaction and a feel- 
ing of personal merit and desert. 

These different forms of the moral sentiment may co- 
exist in very unequal strength in the same individual. A 
boy may have a fairly keen abhorrence of cruelty, and yet 
be wanting in a feeling for truth or veracity. These indi- 
vidual differences point to the diversity in the nature 
of these feelings, and also to the fact that the directions 
of the moral feeling and the objects or ideas it attaches 
itself to are largely fixed by external influences and by 
education. 

Moral Feeling and Moral Judgment. — Here, as 
in the case of the aesthetic faculty, the emotional element 
is bound up with a properly intellectual process. Con- 
science includes not only a susceptibility to feeling of a 
certain kind, but a power or faculty of recognizing the 
presence of certain qualities in actions (rightness, justness, 
etc.), or of judging an act to have a certain moral char- 
acter. Some amount of intellectual discrimination must, 
of course, accompany and precede every moral feeling. 



MORAL STANDARDS. 347 

We can not feel moral repugnance at an act of meanness 
or cruelty except when we discern to some extent the 
character of the action. In some cases, however, the 
judgment is very vague. Thus we may have a strong 
feeling of the injustice of an action, and yet be quite un- 
able to say wherein exactly the injustice lies. In con- 
trast to this blind form of moral judgment there is the 
intelligent one, in which feeling is controlled by reflection. 
The full exercise of the moral faculty includes the co- 
operation of feeling or sentiment and the intellectual 
faculty of judgment. 

The Moral Standard. — Men's judgments as to 
what is right and wrong are not perfectly uniform. We 
find different standards set up in different communities, 
and in the same community at different times. Lying, 
suicide, etc., are differently estimated by different nations, 
and the same differences show themselves in smaller com- 
munities. In one school current ideas and feelings about 
what is mean, dishonorable, and so on, may vary consid- 
erably from those reigning in another school. Wherever 
a community forms itself, we see a tendency to the adop- 
tion of a special local standard of what is right and praise- 
worthy. 

These narrow standards have to be corrected by com- 
parison of one system with another. By finding out what 
is common to them, and by reflecting on the highest and 
best interests of man, the moralist aims at constructing an 
ideally perfect statement of the moral law which is to 
serve as a universal and final standard of right and wrong. 

Growth of the Moral Sentiment. — It has been 
long disputed whether the moral faculty is innate and in- 
stinctive, or whether it is the result of experience and 
education. The probability is that it is partly the. one, 
and partly the other. The child shows from an early 
period a disposition to submit to others' authority, and 
this moral instinct may not improbably be the transmitted 



348 



THE HIGHER SENTIMENTS. 



result of the social experience and moral training of many 
generations of ancestors. Yet, whatever the strength of 
the innate disposition, it is indisputable that external in- 
fluences and education have much to do in determining 
the intensity and the special form of the moral sentiment. 
We have now to trace the successive phases of its devel- 
opment. 

A consciousness of moral obligation arises in the first 
instance by help of the common childish experience of 
living under parental authority at the outset. The child's 
repugnance to doing what is wrong is mainly the egoistic 
feeling of dislike to or fear of punishment. By the effect 
of the principle of association or "transference," dislike to 
the consequences of certain actions might lead on to a 
certain measure of dislike to the actions themselves. 
And such an effort would greatly strengthen the innate 
disposition to submit to authority. 

When the forces of affection and sympathy come into 
play, this crude germ of moral feeling would advance a 
stage. An affectionate child, finding that disobedience 
and wrong-doing offend and distress his mother or father, 
would shrink from these actions on this ground. Not 
only so, the promptings of sympathy would lead the child 
to set a value on what those whom he loves and esteems 
hold in reverence. In this way love and reverence for the 
father lead on naturally to love and reverence for the 
moral law which he represents, enforces, and in a measure 
embodies. 

Even now, however, the love of right has not become 
a feeling for the inherent quality of moral Tightness : it is 
still a blind respect for what is enjoined by certain per- 
sons who are respected and beloved. In order that the 
blind sympathetic regard may pass into an intelligent ap- 
preciation, another kind of experience is necessary. 

Thrown with others from the first, a child soon finds 
that he is affected in various ways by their actions. 



MORAL CULTIVATION. 349 

Thus another child takes a toy from him or strikes him, 
and he suffers, and experiences a feeling of anger, and 
an impulse to retaliate. Or, on the contrary, another 
child is generous and shares his toys, etc., with him, and 
so his happiness is augmented, and he is disposed to be 
grateful. In such ways the child gradually gains experi- 
ence of the effect of others' good and bad actions on his 
own welfare. By so doing his apprehension of the mean- 
ing of moral distinctions is rendered clearer. " Right " 
and " wrong " acquire a certain significance in relation to 
his individual well-being. He is now no longer merely 
in the position of an unintelligent subject to a command : 
he becomes to some extent an intelligent approver of 
that command, helping to enforce it, by pronouncing the 
doer of the selfish act "naughty," and of the kind action 
"good." 

Further experience and reflection on this would teach 
the child the reciprocity and interdependence of right 
conduct ; that the honesty, fairness, and kindness of others 
toward himself are conditional on his acting similarly 
toward them. In this way he would be led to attach a 
new importance to his own performance of certain right 
actions. He feels impelled to do what is right, e. g., speak 
the truth, not simply because he wants to avoid his par- 
ents' condemnation, but because he begins to recognize 
that network of reciprocal dependence which binds each 
individual member of a community to his fellows. 

Even now, however, our young moral learner has not 
attained to a genuine and pure repugnance to wrong as 
such. In order that he may feel this, the higher sympa- 
thetic feelings must be further developed. 

To illustrate the influence of such a higher sympathy, 
let us suppose that A suffers from B's angry outbursts 
or his greedy propensities. He finds that C and D also 
suffer in much the same way. If his sympathetic im- 
pulses are sufficiently keen he will be able, by help of his 



35° 



THE HIGHER SENTIMENTS. 



own similar sufferings, to put himself in the place of the 
injured one, and to resent his injury just as though it 
were done to himself. At the beginning he will feel only 
for those near him, and the objects of special affection, as 
his mother or his sister. Hence the moral importance of 
family relations and their warm personal affections, as 
serving first to develop habitual sympathy with others 
and consideration for their interests and claims. As his 
sympathies expand, however, this indignation against 
wrong-doing will take a wider sweep, and embrace a 
larger and larger circle of his fellows. In this way he 
comes to exercise a higher moral function as a disinter- 
ested spectator of others' conduct, and an impartial repre- 
sentative and supporter of the moral law. 

Development of Self-judging Conscience. — The 
highest outcome of this habit of sympathetic indignation 
against wrong is a disinterested repugnance to wrong 
when done by the individual himself. A child injures an- 
other in some way, either in momentary anger or through 
thoughtlessness. As soon as he is able to reflect, his 
habit of sympathy asserts itself, and causes him to suffer 
with the injured one. He puts himself at the point of 
view of the child he has wronged, and from that point of 
view looks back on himself, the doer of the wrong, with a 
new feeling of self-condemnation. On the other hand, 
when he fulfills his duty to another or renders him a kind- 
ness, he gains a genuine satisfaction by imaginatively real- 
izing the feelings of the recipient of the service, and so 
looking back on his action with complacency and ap- 
proval. 

When this stage of moral progress is reached, the child 
will identify himself with the moral law in a new and 
closer way. He will no longer do right merely because 
an external authority commands, or because he sees it to 
some extent to be his interest to do so. The develop- 
ment of the unselfish feelings has now connected an in- 



TRAINING THE MORAL FEELINGS. 



351 



ternal pain, the pang of self-condemnation and of re- 
morse, with the consciousness of acting wrongly ; and this 
pain, being immediate and certain, acts as a constant and 
never-failing sanction. 

The higher developments of the moral sentiment in- 
volve not only a deepening and quickening of the feelings, 
but a considerable enlightenment of the intelligence. In 
order to detect the subtler distinctions between right and 
wrong, delicate intellectual processes have to be carried 
out. Rapidity and certainty of moral insight are the late 
result of wide experience, and a long and systematic exer- 
cise of the moral faculty on its emotional and intellectual 
side alike. 

The Training of the Moral Faculty.— Since the 
moral feeling stands in a peculiarly close relation to the 
will, the practical problem of exercising and developing it 
is intimately connected with the education of the will and 
the formation of the moral character. This larger problem 
we have not yet reached, but we may even at this stage 
inquire into the best means of developing the moral senti- 
ment regarded apart from its influence as a motive to 
action, and merely as an emotional and intellectual prod- 
uct. 

Inasmuch as the government of the parent and the 
teacher is the external agency that first acts upon the germ 
of the moral sentiment, it is evident that the work of 
training the moral feelings and judgment forms a con- 
spicuous feature in the plan of early education. The 
nature of the home discipline more particularly is a prime 
factor in determining the first movements of growth of the 
childish sense of duty. In order that any system of dis- 
cipline may have a beneficial moral influence and tend in 
the direction of moral growth, it must satisfy the require- 
ments of a good and efficient system. What these are is a 
point which will be considered later on. Here it must 
suffice to say that rules must be laid down absolutely, and 



352 THE HIGHER SENTIMENTS. 

enforced uniformly and consistently, yet with a careful 
consideration of circumstances and individual differences. 
Only in this way will the child come to view the com- 
mands and prohibitions of his parent or his teacher as 
representing and expressing a permanent and unalterable 
moral law, which is perfctly impartial in its approvals and 
disapprovals. 

The effect of any system of discipline in educating and 
strengthening the moral feelings and judgment will de- 
pend on the spirit and temper in which it is enforced. 
On the one hand, a measure of calm becomes the judicial 
function, and a parent or teacher carried away by violent 
feeling is unfit for moral control. Hence everything like 
petty personal feeling, as vindictiveness, triumph, and so 
forth, should be rigorously excluded. 

On the other hand, the moral educator must not, in 
administering discipline, appear as a cold impersonal ab- 
straction. He must represent the august and rigorously 
impartial moral law, but in representing it he must prove 
himself a living personality capable of being deeply pained 
at the sight of wrong-doing. By so doing he may foster 
the love of right by enlisting on his side the child's 
warmer feelings of love and respect for a concrete per- 
sonality. The child should first be led to feel how base 
it is to lie, and how cowardly to injure a weak and help- 
less creature, by witnessing the distress it causes his be- 
loved parent or teacher. In like manner he should be led 
on to feel the nobility of generosity and self-sacrifice by 
witnessing the delight which it brings his moral teacher. 

It is hardly necessary to add, perhaps, that this infu- 
sion of morality with a warm sympathetic reflection of the 
educator's feelings presupposes the action of that moral 
atmosphere which surrounds a good personality. The 
child only fully realizes the repugnance of a lie to his 
parent or teacher when he comes to regard him as himself 
a perfect embodiment of truth. The moral educator must 



INFLUENCE OF MORAL EXAMPLES. 353 

appear as the consistent respecter of the moral law in all 
his actions.* 

The training of the moral faculty in a self-reliant mode 
of feeling and judging includes the habitual exercise of 
the sympathetic feelings, together with the powers of 
judgment. And here much may be done by the educa- 
tor in directing the child's attention to the effects of his 
conduct. The injurious consequences of wrong-doing and 
the beneficent results of right-doing ought to be made clear 
to the child, and his feelings enlisted against the one and 
on the side of the other. Not only so, his mind should 
be exercised in comparing actions so as to discover the 
common grounds and principles of right and wrong, and 
also in distinguishing between like actions under different 
circumstances, so that he may become rational and dis- 
criminative in pronouncing moral judgment. 

What is called moral instruction should in the first 
stages of education consist largely of presenting to the 
child's mind examples of duty and virtue, with a view to 
call forth his moral feelings as well as to exercise his 
moral judgment. His own little sphere of observation 
should be supplemented by the page of history and of 
fiction. In this way a wider variety of moral action is 
exhibited, and the level of every-day experience is tran- 
scended. Such a widening of the moral horizon is neces- 
sary both for enlarging and refining the feeling of duty, 
and for rendering the meaning of moral terms deeper and 
more exact. And it stimulates the mind to frame an ideal 
conception of what is good and praiseworthy. 

The problem of determining the exact relation of in- 
tellectual to moral culture is one which has perplexed 
men's minds from the days of Socrates. On the one hand, 
as has been remarked, the enlightenment of the intelli- 
gence is essential to the growth of a clear and finely dis- 

* On the importance of a habit of exact veracity in the educator, 
see Miss Edgeworth, " Practical Education," i, chap. viii. 



354 



THE HIGHER SENTIMENTS. 



criminative moral sense. On the other hand, it is possible 
to exercise the intellect in dealing with the formal dis- 
tinctions of morality without calling the moral faculty into 
full vital activity. 

This practical difficulty presses with peculiar force 
when we come on to the later exercises of moral instruc- 
tion. The full carrying out of the process of informing 
the moral intelligence naturally conducts to the more or 
less systematic exposition of the ideas and truths of ethics. 
An enlightened conscience is one to which the deepest 
grounds of duty have begun to disclose themselves, and 
which has approximated to a complete and harmonious 
ideal of goodness by a systematic survey and co-ordination 
of the several divisions of human duty and the correspond- 
ing directions of moral virtue and excellence. Something 
in the shape of ethical exposition is thus called for when 
the child reaches a certain point in moral progress. But 
the educator must be careful to make this dogmatic in- 
struction supplementary to, and not a substitute for, the 
drawing forth of the whole moral faculty on its sensitive 
and on its reflective side alike by the presentation of living 
concrete illustrations of moral truth. Divorced from this, 
it can only degenerate into a dead formal exercise of the 
logical faculty and the memory.* 

The education of the moral sentiment is, as we have 
seen, carried out in part by the influence of the child's 
companions. To surround him with companions is not 
only necessary for his comfort, but is a condition of de- 
veloping and strengthening the moral feelings, as the senti- 
ment of justice, the feeling of honor, and so on. The 
larger community of the school has an important moral 
function in familiarizing the child's mind with the idea 

* The relation of intellectual to moral culture is dealt with in an 
interesting and suggestive paper by Mrs. Bryant, " The Intellectual 
Factor in Moral Education," published in the " Journal of Education," 
February, 1885. 



THE TRAINING OF THE MORAL FACULTY. 355 

that the moral law is not the imposition of an individual 
will, but of the community. The standard of good con- 
duct set up and enforced by this community is all authori- 
tative in fixing the early directions of the moral judgment. 
This being so, it is evident that the moral educator 
must take pains to control and guide the public opinion 
of the school. And in connection with this he should 
seek to counteract the excessive influence of numbers, and 
to stimulate the individual to independent moral reflection. 

APPENDIX. 

On the cultivation of curiosity and a love of intellectual activity, 
see Locke, " On Education," § 118 ; Spencer, " Education," chap, iii ; 
Bain, "Education as Science," chap, vi, p. 177, etc. ; Perez, " L'Edu- 
cation," chap. ii. 

On the cultivation of taste, read Miss Edgeworth, " Practical Edu- 
cation," chap, xxii ; Bain, " Education as Science," chap, xiii ; M me. 
Necker, " L'Education," livre v, chap, iii ; Th. Waitz, " Allgem. Paeda- 
gogik," 2. Theil, 2. Absch., § 19. 

The early stages of moral development are dealt with by Pfisterer, 
" Paedagog. Psychologie," Kap. 2, §§ 16, 18. On the training of the 
moral faculty, etc., see H. Spencer, " Education," chap, iii ; Bain, 
"Education as Science," chap, iii, p. 100, etc., cf. chap, xii ; Mme. 
Necker, " L'Education," livre iii, chap, vi ; Beneke, " Erziehungs- und 
Unterrichtslehre," i, 2. Kap., Absch. 2 und 4; Th. Waitz, "Allgem. 
Paedagogik," 2. Theil, 2. Absch., § 14. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

THE WILL : VOLUNTARY MOVEMENT. 

Having now traced in its main outlines the course of 
emotional development, we may pass on to the considera- 
tion of the development of the third side or phase of mind, 
namely, the active side, or willing. 

Definition of Willing. — The terms will and willing 
are used in mental science in a comprehensive manner, so 
as to include all our conscious actions or doings, whether 
external bodily actions, as walking, speaking, or internal 
mental actions, as concentrating the thoughts, deliber- 
ating, etc. In a narrower and stricter sense willing covers 
only those actions that are accompanied by a clear con- 
scious purpose. Thus the action of warding off a blow 
with the hand is an act of will, or a voluntary action, 
whereas blinking when an object is suddenly brought 
near the eye is spoken of as non-voluntary, because, though 
we are conscious of the movement, we do not distinctly 
purpose to perform it. 

Willing, Knowing, and Feeling. — As was pointed 
out in an earlier chapter, there is a certain opposition be- 
tween willing and the other two main modes of mental 
manifestation. Thus, to be actively engaged in doing 
something, contrasts with the quiet and comparatively pas- 
sive mental attitude of reflection. The man of energetic 
action is popularly opposed to the man of reflection. 
Similarly, strong emotional excitement and action are in- 



THE BASIS OF WILLING: DESIRE. 357 

compatible, and the man of strong will is one who, among 
other things, brings emotion under control. 

At the same time, voluntary action always includes 
an element of knowing and of feeling. The motive to 
voluntary action, the end or object desired, is the realiza- 
tion or gratification of some feeling (e. g., ambition, or the 
sense of duty). And we can not act for a purpose with- 
out knowing something about the relation between the 
action we are performing and the result we are aiming at. 
Thus, in every case it is feeling which supplies the stimu- 
lus or force to volition, and intellect which guides or illu- 
mines it. 

Desire, the Basis of Willing'. — When a boy acts 
with a purpose, say to win his teacher's favor, he desires 
something, viz., the realization of the idea or representa- 
tion of something pleasurable. Desire is the fundamental 
fact in the process. It can only be defined as the out- 
going of the mind in an active impulse or movement to- 
ward the realization of the idea or representation of some- 
thing pleasurable. 

Besides this positive movement of attraction toward 
what is seen to be pleasurable, there is a negative move- 
ment of repulsion away from what is painful, as, for ex- 
ample, the miserable humiliating experience of punish- 
ment. This negative form of desire is marked off as 
aversion. 

Desire, though an active mental phenomenon, presup- 
poses as its conditions an emotional and an intellectual 
element. We do not desire what is indifferent to us, but 
only what brings satisfaction. Our several experiences 
of pleasure and pain thus constitute so many sources of 
desire and aversion. In order, however, to desire a new 
realization of some pleasurable experience, it is necessary 
that the mind recalls and imagines it with a certain degree 
of distinctness. And here the intellectual element of rep- 
resentation comes into view. The strength of a desire 



358 THE WILL: VOLUNTARY MOVEMENT. 

thus varies with two elements : (i) the magnitude of the 
experience ; (2) the degree of distinctness with which it 
is imagined. A schoolboy will generally desire the long 
vacation more eagerly than the weekly holiday. But we 
all fail to desire even great pleasures because we do not 
vividly represent them. This applies to all remote, as 
compared with near, prospects. Children do not strongly 
desire a distant pleasure, as winning a prize, because they 
are " weak in futurity," and can not picture distinctly and 
steadily the far-off delight. That which is near influences 
all of us, and especially the young, by way both of attrac- 
tion and of repulsion, more powerfully than that which is 
remote. 

Desire and Activity. — Desire is primarily a state 
of feeling, a sense of want and craving. At the same 
time it is closely connected with the state of active exer- 
tion. When a child desires a thing, he feels impelled to 
do something, to exert his active powers for the attain- 
ment of the object. 

This active outcome of the state of desire varies ac- 
cording to special circumstances. Sometimes it is much 
fainter and less sustained than at other times. A child 
will often feel a strong craving for something, say a 
toy or a book, and yet not be disposed to any consider- 
able exertion for the sake of this. We are not always 
equally disposed to do things. A child in a peevish, in- 
dolent mood is apt to prolong the state of desire till it 
grows excessively painful and wearing. Want of mental 
and bodily vigor is unfavorable to exertion. On the other 
hand, where there is robust vigor and a strong predisposi- 
tion to activity, desire immediately passes into exertion. 

We see from this what is the natural basis of an active 
energetic will. This consists, first of all, in keenness or 
intensity of desire. And, since desire stands in the closest 
relation to feeling, keenness of desire clearly carries with 
it vividness or intensity of feeling. Strong emotional sus- 



FULL VOLUNTARY ACTION. 359 

ceptibilities are thus an antecedent condition of vigorous 
activity. But feeling in itself is not enough. Many chil- 
dren have strong feelings but no corresponding degree of 
active force. What is needed over and above this is a 
powerful disposition to act, or what we specially mark off 
as the active temperament. The natural foundation of an 
energetic will thus consists of powerful active impulses 
sustained by intense feelings. The conditions of the 
higher manifestations of activity in calm rational volition 
will appear later on. 

Desiring and Willing. — The mere desire for a 
thing, and the impulse to strive toward its attainment, 
though the fundamental processes in volition, do not of 
themselves amount to a full voluntary action. In order 
that this active impulse may direct itself into a definite 
line of action another element is needed. 

This new factor is the idea or representation of some 
particular action which we discern to be a means to the 
object or end which we desire. When, for example, a 
child desires to amuse himself with a toy, and goes to the 
cupboard where it lies, or desires to give a pleasant sur- 
prise to his mother, and exerts himself in making some- 
thing pretty for her, we have the selection and adoption 
of a particular line of activity which is seen to conduce to 
the desired result. This is a voluntary act in the full 
sense. The child wills to do a particular thing for a 
particular end. This adapting of means to ends involves 
a further effect of experience, which teaches the child 
that his exertions are definitely related to particular re- 
sults as the conditions of producing them or the means of 
attaining them. 

Development of Willing. — Having thus roughly 
analyzed the process of willing, we proceed to trace the 
main stages of its development. 

The growth of willing, like that of knowing and feel- 
ing, follows the order, from the simple to the complex, 



360 THE WILL : VOL UNTAR Y MO VEMENT. 

and from the presentative to the representative. The 
actions of a young child, as carrying objects to the mouth, 
are comparatively simple movements directed to present 
or immediately realizable enjoyments. The actions of an 
adult, such as writing a letter, preparing for an examina- 
tion, and so forth, are complex chains of movements, and 
involve an increase of representative power, viz., the 
ability to picture remote ends. Or, to express it in a 
somewhat different way, action is at first prompted from 
without, being a response to present sense-impressions (e. 
g., the sight of food) ; whereas later on it becomes more 
and more prompted from within, being called forth by in- 
ternal processes of imagination and reflection. 

Instinctive Factor in Volition. — The growth of 
the will, like that of intelligence and feeling, implies the 
existence of certain original tendencies. Every child is 
endowed at the outset with a number of instinctive pro- 
pensities which constitute the natural basis of volition. 
Of these the most important is the general tendency to 
seek what is pleasurable and avoid what is painful. This 
is the great primal source of voluntary action. In addi- 
tion to this general tendency, there are special instinctive 
impulses toward definite lines of action. Thus there are 
the appetites or impulses growing out of the bodily needs. 
It is probable, too, as we have seen, that every individual 
has an instinctive tendency to display his powers, to re- 
quite injury with injury, to seek others' approbation, and 
so forth. All the main directions of human activity ap- 
pear to be more or less distinctly foreshadowed by in- 
stinctive impulses, which show themselves in the first few 
years of life. 

Effects of Experience and of Exercise.— In the 
second place, experience and exercise are needed to de- 
velop these instinctive germs of volition. Experience is 
needed to give the child definite ideas of what is good 
and pleasurable. Even the desire for food, the most 



S TRENG THENING THE VOL UN TAR Y PO WERS. 36 1 

clearly marked variety of instinctive impulse, only grows 
distinct when the gratification of satisfying the appetite 
has been experienced and can be recalled. And in many 
cases, as already pointed out, experience is the starting- 
point of desire. In this way, for example, a child may 
come to seek the pleasures of a story, of sympathy, and so 
forth. And while experience is thus needed to teach the 
child what is desirable, it is needed still more to tell him 
how he is to compass or realize his desires. The whole 
work of directing the actions, of adapting means to ends, 
is the result of a process of learning from experience. 

Finally, the exercise of the voluntary powers in any 
direction is the proper means of strengthening them in 
that direction. Thus, in bringing the voluntary muscles 
into play, facility and perfection of execution are reached 
by means of prolonged and systematic practice. Similarly 
with the higher moral actions of self-control. The gen- 
eral law of mental development, " Exercise (provided it is 
suitable in form and quantity) strengthens faculty," holds 
good in the region of volition. 

In studying the development of willing, we shall set 
out with the simplest form of external action, viz , bodily 
movement. From this we may pass to other and more 
complex forms in which the internal element of reflection 
and free choice becomes more distinct. And with these 
higher forms of external action may be taken those purely 
internal manifestations of will which we call the control of 
the thoughts and the feelings. 

Beginnings of Movement. — At first a child knows 
nothing of his bodily organs or his powers of movement, 
or of the relation of his movements to the satisfaction of 
his wants. He has to find this out by actual experiment. 

While the human offspring contrasts in its helplessness 

with the young of the lower animals, it is provided with 

original and instinctive tendencies to move its limbs, and 

these are of considerable importance in the development 

16 



362 THE WILL: VOLUNTARY MOVEMENT. 

of voluntary movement. These tendencies are trans- 
mitted from parent to child by the medium of definite 
structural arrangements in the nervous system. 

Of these the first is the tendency to reflex movement, 
or movement of a purposeless and comparatively uncon- 
scious character, in response to sensory stimulation. 
Some of these, as the action of closing the fingers 
around a small object placed on the palm of the hand, 
appear soon after birth. Others, as blinking when an ob- 
ject is suddenly brought near the eyes, occur later. 

Next to these in the order of importance are instinct- 
ive movements. These are more complex than reflex 
movements, and are more like voluntary movements, in 
being accompanied by feeling and a vague form of desire 
or craving. Some of these, as the action of sucking, are 
necessary for the maintenance of the child's life, and so 
are perfect, or nearly so, at the outset. Others, as baby- 
singing, pouting when vexed, and so forth, are later. 

In addition to these more definite germs of movement, 
the child manifests in certain conditions a tendency to a 
wide range and variety of movements. Thus, when the 
motor organs are reinvigorated after sleep, the infant 
brings his limbs into play spontaneously. These move- 
ments have been marked off as spontaneous or random 
movements. They are said to be the result of the accu- 
mulation and overflow of nervous energy in the motor 
organs (centers of movements, etc.). 

Finally, it is to be observed that all feeling tends to 
manifest itself in movement. States of pleasure and of 
pain lead at the outset to a more or less general excitation 
of the organs of movement. 

Transition to Voluntary Movement. — By these 
several varieties of unlearned movement, and more espe- 
cially the last group, the child gains some experience of 
his powers, and learns what are the results of bringing 
them into play. 



VOLITION THE RESULT OF EFFORT 363 

In order to understand this, let us suppose that a 
bright object is held near the eyes of an infant. The gay 
color delights it, and its feeling of delight vents itself in a 
number of movements. Suppose that one of these is the 
stretching out of the hand toward the object. This brings 
the hand in contact with the thing, and so gives it posses- 
sion and command of it. Such a result occurring repeat- 
edly would impress itself on the child's mind. It would 
(by aid of its muscular sense) distinguish this movement 
from others, and associate or connect with it the gratifi- 
cation of grasping and holding an object. When this 
stage is reached the movement is transformed into a vol- 
untary one. Wishing to hold an object presented to it, it 
puts forth its hand for the express purpose of obtaining 
this satisfaction. 

Voluntary movement is thus the outgrowth of trial and 
experience. The child, by the original constitution of its 
mind, tends to desire and seek after what is pleasurable 
and subserves its welfare, and to avoid what is painful and 
injurious. But this impulse needs" to be guided by expe- 
rience, and this experience is provided for by the primi- 
tive tendencies and impulses to movement just spoken of. 

Effects of Exercise. — The perfect carrying out of 
any voluntary movement is the result of a gradual process 
of learning and improving. The movement must be re- 
peated many times before it becomes definite, so that the 
child can carry it out promptly and easily. Not only so, 
repetitions of the movement are needed to fix the associ- 
ation between means and ends in the child's mind, so that 
the desire for the end shall instantly suggest the appropri- 
ate action. 

The mastery of a few simple movements prepares the 
way for the acquisition of new and more difficult ones. 
For example, a child has learned to stretch out his hands 
to an object in front of it. A new situation occurs. Sit- 
ting on the floor, his toy falls from his hands. By help of 



364 THE WILL: VOLUNTARY MOVEMENT. 

his previous experience he has a vague idea of what he 
has to do to recover it. And by a series of trials he at 
length modifies the old movement in such a way as to 
make it fit the new circumstances. 

Throughout this progressive extension of the range of 
movement the child is continually learning to isolate 
movements one from another, and to combine them in 
new connections. The first attempts to perform a deli- 
cate movement or group of movements, say those of writ- 
ing, involve a checking of a general or diffused impulse 
to movement, showing itself in awkward movements of the 
head, fingers, legs, etc.* 

In learning special varieties of finger movement, as in 
playing the piano, natural or acquired associations of 
movement have to be overcome. On the other hand, all 
progress in movement involves construction. The child 
learns to combine movements already mastered in isola- 
tion in new ways. Thus, in learning to write he has to 
hold the pen in a certain way, and at the same time carry 
out the necessary movements. The drilling-lesson im- 
poses a combination of muscular actions of the head, 
arms, etc. 

Imitation. — The term imitation is popularly used for 
the adoption of any movement, feeling, or peculiarity of 
thought from others. In mental science it is employed 
with special reference to actions. By an imitative move- 
ment is meant one which is called forth directly by the 
sight of that movement as performed by another. Thus 
it is an imitative action when a child pouts in response to 
another's pout. 

The imitative repetition of another's observed move- 
ment involves an association between the appearance or 
sight of the movement and its actual performance. The 
first imitative actions, e. g., pouting, show themselves as 

* This is an illustration of the control or inhibition of impulse 
which will be more fully dealt with in the next chapter. 



BASIS OF IMITATION. 365 

early as the fourth month ; * and this suggests that the 
associations involved are to some extent inherited. At 
the same time, the impulse to imitate the movements, 
gestures, etc., of others grows more marked toward the 
end of the first year, and only shows itself in its strongest 
form in the second year. From this it is evident that 
individual experience is needed to develop the ability. 
Readiness in imitation is based on a certain range of 
muscular experience in moving the limbs, and attention to 
the corresponding visual impressions, the changing aspects 
of the moving organ. 

The strong manifestation of the impulse to imitate at 
this early period appears to be connected with a growing 
facility in the performance of bodily movements, and a 
sense of enjoyment in bringing the moving organs into 
action. A definite line of action being suggested by an- 
other's movement, the spontaneous impulse to activity 
avails itself of the lead. The contagious character of 
romping play illustrates this side of imitation. 

Later on this impulsive and " unconscious " imitation 
tends to become a more conscious and definitely voluntary 
operation. A child at the age of six or eight imitates the 
actions of others under the influence of a conscious desire 
to do what others do. The prompting motive here is not 
always the same. When a boy imitates the bodily feats of 
another boy, he is impelled by the wish to prove and dis- 
play his powers, and to show himself equal or superior to 
another. In other cases the impulse springs rather out 
of the social feelings, affection and admiration for some 
one superior to himself, as his parent or teacher. 

We see from this the close connection between imita- 

* Prof. Preyer says that a child when less than four months old 
pouted in response to his father's pout (" Die Seele des Kindes," 
p. 177). This agrees with a remark of Mr. Darwin, that his boy ap- 
peared to imitate sounds when four months old. See his " Biographical 
Sketch of an Infant," in " Mind," vol. ii (1877), p. 291. 



3 66 



THE WILL : VOL UNTAR Y MO VEMENT. 



tion and sympathy. The latter, as we saw, begins with 
a contagious propagation of the external bodily manifesta- 
tions, that is, the characteristic movements by which the 
feeling expresses itself. And, conversely, the impulses of 
sympathy, when developed, prompt to a more reflective 
imitation of the actions of those who are the objects of 
affection. 

So far we have supposed that the imitative movement 
is a mere reproduction of some action that has been pre- 
viously acquired independently, as when a child opens his 
mouth in response to another's movement. But imitation 
has a much wider range than this. The child imitates new 
forms of movement. Thus the infant learns to wave its 
hand in response to the action of the mother. This 
higher and constructive form of imitation presupposes a 
certain range of motor experience gained under the press- 
ure of personal needs and desires. A child could not 
learn to wave his hand in obedience to the lead of an- 
other's movement if he had not already acquired a certain 
stock of experiences in waving his hands in other ways. 
Similarly, the first effort in vocal imitation, in repeating 
the words uttered by others, is preceded by a certain stage 
of spontaneous or feeling-prompted exercise of the organ. 

The child's tendency to imitate those about him is a 
very important aid to the development of his will. From 
a very early period it co-operates with the force of the 
child's personal desires, and so tends greatly to shorten 
the process of acquisition in the case of useful movements 
which he would otherwise perform. Thus a child thrown 
with other children who are just able to walk learns to 
walk more quickly than one cut off from the example of 
others. And this lead of example tends to suggest a large 
variety of new modes of movement, and so to extend very 
much the range of action. We see this exemplified in a 
striking manner in the rapid imitative acquisition of gest- 
ures, vocal groupings, and modifications of accent, tone, 



CONDITIONS OF THE IMITATIVE IMPULSE. 367 

etc., of other children and of adults, which often takes 
place toward the end of the third year. 

Children vary much in the strength of the imitative 
impulse. This is partly connected with unequal degrees 
of vigor in the active organs. An energetic child will be 
more disposed to pick up the movements of others than a 
feeble, lethargic one. Much, too, will depend on the close- 
ness of attention to the visible aspects of movements when 
performed by the child himself and by others. Finally, 
the strength of the impulse to imitate others will vary 
much with the emotional temperament. There are chil- 
dren strongly disposed to fall in with the ways of others, 
to rely on their authority, and to follow their lead. These 
are especially imitative. Others, again, of a more inde- 
pendent, self-assertive turn of mind, are apt to strike out 
their own modes of action. Such are in general much less 
influenced by example and the impulse of imitation. 

Excitation of Movement by Command. — One 
other mode of external excitation of movement must be 
glanced at here, viz., that by way of verbal sign and the 
word of command. This, like the force of imitation, in- 
volves a social environment and the action of other human 
beings. It differs from imitation, since it presupposes a 
definite purpose to call forth a movement on the part of a 
parent or other person invested with authority. The as- 
sociation between the act of sitting upright and the corre- 
sponding command to do so, unlike that between seeing 
another do a thing and doing it one's self, is an artificial 
association which has to be built up by the agencies of 
discipline and education. This action of authority and 
discipline is an important factor in furthering the child's 
command of his bodily organs. The elaborate terminology 
by which we describe the various moving organs and their 
several movements enable the educator to specify and iso- 
late in a definite and precise manner the particular mus- 
cular action that is required. 



368 THE WILL : VOL UNTAR Y MO VEMENT. 

Internal Command of Movement. — In all the 

forms of movement considered so far, action occurs in re- 
sponse to external impressions. A higher stage is reached 
when movement becomes detached from external impres- 
sions, and appears as the result of an internal process of 
imagination, as when a child thinks of the pet animal in 
the garden that wants feeding, or the flowers that want 
watering, and carries out the appropriate movements. In 
this way movement becomes internally initiated or excited, 
and so more the outcome of the child's inner self, his 
thoughts and wishes. 

From the ability to perform a particular movement 
whenever a wish arises for a definite result, the child, by 
another step upward, attains the power of moving his 
bodily organs when he wishes to do so apart from any 
special result. This higher stage of development of move- 
ment involves a yet greater degree of facility in the per- 
formance of the several recurring forms of bodily move- 
ment, and a proportionate readiness to carry them out. 
When this point is reached the child may be said to have 
gained a complete internal command of his bodily organs. 
Henceforth, they will be in a new and higher sense the 
instruments of his will, made responsive and obedient to 
the internal wishes and purposes. It is only when he is 
thus able at will to call into activity his several active or- 
gans, and more particularly his arms, hands, and fingers, 
and his vocal organ, that he is in a position to go on easily 
and rapidly to new and more complex forms of action. 

The progress made in these successive stages of acquir- 
ing the command of the muscular organs will vary with 
the native powers and disposition of the child, and the 
surrounding influences to which he is exposed. Confining 
our attention for the present to the former or internal 
conditions, we may instance among the more important 
circumstances : (a) a vigorous muscular system, with a 
corresponding readiness to do things, experiment, and 



GROWTH OF VOLUNTARY MOVEMENT. 369 

persevere in a succession of trials ; {b) a certain discrimi- 
native delicacy of the muscular organs, which favors a nice 
execution of the several movements ; and (c), closely con- 
nected with the last circumstance, a good retentiveness for 
movements, which favors the association of them with pas- 
sive sense-impressions and with one another, and so se- 
cures the reproduction of them. 

To these natural aptitudes must be added a strong 
interest in muscular action, and a close and steady con- 
centration of mind on the several forms of exercise. The 
interest may spring out of the pleasures of muscular activ- 
ity. But the attainment of the more difficult muscular 
performances involves other motives, as a love of power, 
ambition, and so forth. The importance of a steady con- 
centration of mind in furthering muscular progress is one 
more illustration of the general truth, that all learn- 
ing, and all mental development, is the outcome of exer- 
tion, and is rapid or otherwise according to the intensity 
and continuance of this exertion. 

This attainment of a wide and perfect command of the 
bodily organs involves the growth of will in more ways 
than one. As has been remarked, all external actions, 
including the most elaborate processes of moral conduct, 
are carried out by means of movements of various kinds. 
The command of the motor organs is thus a necessary 
preliminary to the higher kinds of action. Not only so, 
the very process of acquiring this command of move- 
ment implies the exercise in a rudimentary form of the 
higher voluntary powers, and more particularly persistence 
in effort and trial, determination to overcome difficulties, 
and practical intelligence in comparing and choosing be- 
tween alternatives. Anybody who watches an infant try- 
ing to combine manual movements so as to raise or turn 
over a heavy and unmanageable object, may see how in 
this early and crude form of action the attributes of the 
higher volition begin to manifest themselves. 



37o 



THE WILL: VOLUNTARY MOVEMENT. 



Movement and Habit. — The term habit is com- 
monly used with reference to any recurring mode of 
mental operation, as when we talk of a " habit of thought." 
In a narrower and more restricted sense, it refers to a 
principle or influence operating in the domain of volun- 
tary action.* We do a thing from habit when, as the re- 
sult of many repetitions, we carry out an action with little 
consciousness of purpose or attention to the precise form 
of the action. An action that has thus grown habitual 
takes on something of a mechanical or automatic charac- 
ter, and so resembles reflex and instinctive actions. 
Hence, we commonly describe such habitual actions as 
" instinctive." 

As we have seen, every movement tends by frequent 
performance to grow easy. There remains a " disposi- 
tion " to perform it whenever it is suggested, and apart 
from any strong promptings of desire. This disposition 
implies not only a psychological fact, a greater readiness 
to perform the particular action, but a physiological fact, 
namely, a modification of the nerve-structures concerned. 
This fixed disposition or tendency, produced by repeti- 
tion and practice, to act in a given way in response to 
the slightest stimulus, is one ingredient in what we call 
habit. 

The second constituent of habit is the close associa- 
tion between a definite movement and certain external 
circumstances and impressions. When, for instance, a 
person on going to bed takes out his watch and winds 
it up " under the form of habit," the external circum- 
stances, including the sight of the watch, instantly sug- 
gest and call forth the action of opening the watch, etc., 
without any intervention of distinct conscious purpose. 
This firm connection between an action and the presence 
of certain external circumstances has for its organic base 
a co-ordination of the nerve-centers concerned. It repre- 
* Cf. above, p. 61. 



THE MECHANISM OF HABIT. 371 

sents the extreme result of repetition in associating and 
cementing into one invisible whole contiguous mental ele- 
ments. 

When a number of movements are conjoined either 
simultaneously or successively, the frequent performance 
of these in combination tends to consolidate the separate 
links, so that any one tends to call up the others without 
the need of a separate and distinct voluntary impulse. 
Thus, when a boy has perfectly mastered a poem, he re- 
peats the appropriate gestures along with certain words in 
a mechanical way. Similarly, he carries out in a semi- 
conscious manner the series of movements involved, as 
those which enter into walking, swimming, dancing, etc. 

Strength of Habit. — Habits, like contiguous asso- 
ciations among our ideas, are of very different degrees of 
strength. The degree of perfection of a habit may be es- 
timated by the promptness and the certainty of the active 
response to stimulus. Thus the soldier's " response to an 
order, as 'Attention!'" is "mechanically perfect" when 
it follows immediately and in every case. The strength 
of a habit may be estimated in other ways also. It follows 
from the above account of the mechanism of habit, that it 
is a tendency to a special kind of action which is physio- 
logically better organized than those other varieties which 
are accompanied by clear consciousness. Hence, its 
strength may be estimated by the difficulty of controlling 
and altering it, and by the degree of discomfort which at- 
tends its non-fulfillment. 

The main conditions presupposed in a firm or perfect 
habit are as follows : (1) A sufficient motive force brought 
to bear at the outset, in order to excite the requisite ef- 
fort. The will must by an effort of concentration gain 
full possession of an action before it can hand it over to 
its subordinate, habit. (2) A prolonged repetition of the 
action in connection with the appropriate circumstances. 
Repetition is the great means of fixing movement in the 



372 



THE WILL: VOLUNTARY MOVEMENT. 



channels of habit. (3) An uninterrupted continuity of 
performance in like circumstances. The importance of 
not intermitting the carrying out of an action is known to 
every parent and teacher. A perfectly firm association 
leading to an instant and unreflective performance can 
only be secured by a perfect consistency and uniformity 
in practice. 

It is to be added that the growth of habit is much 
easier in the early " plastic " period of life than later on. 
A more extended process of acquisition, a larger number 
of repetitions, are needed to fix action in a definite direc- 
tion in later years. Not only so, since the habitual modes 
of movement acquired in early life, like the first impres- 
sions about things, are most lasting and difficult to get rid 
of, the formation of good habits later on is obstructed by 
the tenacity of the opposed early habits. A child that has 
early acquired an awkward way of sitting, or unpleasant 
tricks of manner, gives special difficulty to the educator. 
Movement tends to set in the old direction, and many a 
painful effort is needed to check the current. 

Fixity and Plasticity of Movement.— So large a 
part of our life is a recurrence of similar circumstances 
and similar needs, that the principle of habit exerts some 
influence in every direction of our activity. Thus, the 
actions by which we care for the needs of the body, our 
behavior before others, and so forth, are properly domi- 
nated by this principle. In this way nerve-energy is econ- 
omized, and the powers of the mind are left free for other 
matters. Wherever similar circumstances frequently recur 
and call for like modes of action, the co-operation of the 
principle of habit is a clear gain. 

At the same time, human life differs from animal life 
in the greater degree of its complexity and variability. 
The child is not furnished with an outfit of " instincts " 
to start with, as the lower animals are. Development, as 
already pointed out, consists in a process of successive 



HABIT MAY ARREST DEVELOPMENT. 



373 



modifications, issuing in better adaptations to external cir- 
cumstances. While, then, the formation of habits is an 
important part of growth, it is not the whole. Fixity in 
definite directions must not exclude plasticity and modifi- 
ability in others. The complete and absolute rule of habit 
marks the arrest of development. 

Training of Will and the Active Organs.— As 
already observed, the child's attainment of power to use 
his bodily organs and perform movements is greatly pro- 
moted by the direction of others. The control of the 
child's actions by the parent begins with exercising him in 
the use of his muscles. This training of the muscular or- 
gans belongs in part to what is called physical education. 
The well-known effects of muscular exercise in promoting 
the general circulation of the blood and the maintenance 
of bodily heat give it an important place in the educator's 
study and furtherance of the health of his pupils. The 
prominence given to the general development of the mus- 
cular frame by kindergarten exercises, gymnastics, and 
the encouragement of out-of-door games, points to the 
recognition of the dependence of the general health 
and mental efficiency on muscular development. To 
this it must be added that in its more advanced forms, 
involving special practice and skill, the exercise of the 
muscular powers is carried out for the sake of attaining 
a special bodily excellence, viz., robustness, and agility of 
limb. 

At the same time, the exercise of the active organs is 
in a measure involved in intellectual education. This ap- 
plies more particularly to the training of the hand and the 
voice. Teaching children to speak distinctly, to read, and 
to write, is commonly looked on as a part of intellectual 
instruction. It is obvious that these actions largely sub- 
serve the ends of knowledge, and are indeed necessary to 
the taking in and giving out of knowledge. In more spe- 
cial directions, as the exercise of manual dexterity in draw- 



374 



THE WILL: VOLUNTARY MOVEMENT. 



ing, this training aims at the production of some useful 
and technical skill. 

While the exercise of the active organs in special direc- 
tions thus falls under physical or intellectual training, the 
exercise of them in the carrying out the ordinary actions 
of daily life comes more appropriately under the head of 
moral training. As we have seen, the growth of the will 
begins with the attainment of the power of commanding the 
organs of movement. It is in movement that clear pur- 
pose and intention first display themselves. All practice 
in doing things, then, whatever its primary object may be, 
is to some extent a strengthening of volitional power. 

In assisting in this early stage of will-development the 
educator should bear in mind that children are disposed 
to activity, and in their self-appointed occupations and 
play show that they are capable of making real progress 
without any direct control from parent or teacher. The 
young child should from the beginning have ample oppor- 
tunity for exercising his active organs freely, with only a 
general supervision and an imposition of a few necessary 
restraints. His nursery and his play-ground should be pro- 
vided with objects fitted to call forth movement, manual 
and bodily. The important part played by imitation, in 
the growth of voluntary movement, suggests the advantages 
of companionship in these early occupations. A child is 
stimulated by the sight of others doing some new thing- 
Not only so, in all common harmonious movements, as 
those of many social games and kindergarten exercises, a 
new pleasurable stimulus is supplied in the feeling of sym- 
pathy, co-operation, and harmonious adjustment. 

The special province of the educator in this rudi- 
mentary training of the will begins with showing the child 
how to do things. This requires judgment. It is better 
for children to find out the way to do a thing for them- 
selves where they can, just as it is better for them to dis- 
cover a fact or a truth for themselves. Nothing is more 



MANAGEMENT OF ORGANS OF MOVEMENT. 375 

fatal to growth of will than that indolence which shrinks 
from the effort of trial and experiment. Consequently, the 
educator that is always interfering with children's play in 
order to instruct and show them how to do things, is los- 
ing sight of one of the most important conditions of de- 
velopment, viz., self-activity. 

As the child grows, his actions come more under the 
control of the educator. The parent has at an early stage 
to bid the child sit at table and hold his spoon in a cer- 
tain way, articulate his words distinctly, and so forth. 
And to this home instruction there adds itself later the 
more systematic training of the school. In the bodily 
performances of the kindergarten, the manual exercises of 
drawing, writing, etc., and the employment of the vocal 
organs in reading and singing, the teacher becomes the 
trainer of the child's muscular powers in various lines of 
orderly constructive activity. 

The object to be aimed at in all such exercises is to 
train the child to the best possible use and management 
of his organs of movement. The ideally perfect action is 
one which is fully adequate to the purpose in hand, and 
at the same time involves no unnecessary expenditure of 
force. Hence the teacher should aim first of all at ade- 
quacy and thoroughness of performance, even in such ap- 
parently trifling actions as hanging up the hat. And in 
the second place he should seek to correct all clumsiness 
in the use of the muscular organs, and to develop a fa- 
cile precision of movement, which is at once an econ- 
omy of force and the source of what we call grace in 
movement. 

In building up such perfect bodily acquirements a 
number of conditions have to be satisfied. To begin with, 
the educator must be careful as to what he insists upon. 
The task must not be above the child's strength of muscle, 
or the degree of discriminative delicacy attained. The 
teacher should remember that movements which have 



376 THE WILL: VOLUNTARY MOVEMENT. 

become easy and natural to us by long practice involve 
much difficulty at the outset. Care must be taken to 
proceed gradually, and to make the elementary move- 
ments perfect before going on to complex groupings of 
these. 

It is not meant by this that the child is not to be 
called on to make a serious effort. The exercises will 
only be a training of the will in so far as they call forth 
such effort. The child's indolence and disinclination to 
the irksomeness of a sustained concentration of mind on 
a movement or series of movements should be overcome. 
And here an appeal to some motive other than the mere 
pleasure of activity will often be needed. The child's 
desire to get on, to do things as well as those a little in 
advance of him, and wish to please, will suffice to prompt 
the initial effort. 

Finally, the educator should remember that every per- 
fect action is a habit, and that its realization depends on 
the fulfillment of the general conditions of the formation 
of habits. A gentle firmness at the outset, followed up by 
a uniform insistence on the repetition of the action in the 
appropriate circumstances, is what he has to take special 
care of here. When these initial conditions are fulfilled, 
the educator can trust for the final result to that valuable 
ally, the principle of habit itself, which unfailingly works 
toward the transformation of oft-repeated actions into self- 
sustaining and " natural " ones. 

The careful graduation of work according to capability 
may be illustrated by the method of teaching deaf-mutes 
to speak by a process of imitative movement. The teacher 
begins with movements of the external parts of the body, 
which are distinctly visible to the child when he himself 
performs them, and as a consequence easier of imitation. 
Only after a certain practice of the imitative capability in 
this simple form does he venture to go on to call forth the 
more delicate and hidden movements of the organs of 



IMITATION WITH DEAF-MUTES. 



377 



articulation, which can not be guided by sight, and have 
to be taught by the aid of the sense of touch. 

APPENDIX. 

On the early development of will in voluntary movements, see 
Perez, " The First Three Years of Childhood," chaps, ii and vii, and 
Preyer, " Die Seele des Kindes," 2. Theil. On the relation of bodily 
training to education, see Waitz, " Allgemeine Paedagogik," § 7 ; and 
Dittes, " Grundriss der Erziehungs- und Unterrichtslehre," §§ 13, 14. 



CHAPTER XX. 

MORAL ACTION : CHARACTER. 

Having in the preceding chapter traced the steps by 
which a child acquires the command of his moving organs, 
we may pass on to consider the higher developments of 
will, in which action becomes more reflective, and aims at 
other results than immediately realizable gratifications. 

In order to understand how this more rational type of 
action arises, we have to trace the effect of two in- 
fluences : (a) that of the growing intelligence of the 
child ; and (&) that of the fuller and wider development 
of the feelings and desires. 

(a) Influence of Growing Intelligence. — The 
early type of action, that represented by bodily move- 
ment, aims at an immediate result. The young child can 
not aim at a remote gratification, say the pleasure of win- 
ning a prize at some distant date. And this because he 
has little representative power, and can not steadily pict- 
ure a remote gratification, or see its connection with a 
present action. The growth of intelligence supplies this 
ability. A child gradually learns that his actions have 
remote consequences, e. g., that an act of disobedience to- 
day may bring him deprivation to-morrow. 

This growth of knowledge and representative power 
will show itself in different ways, (a) Thus a child will 
come to aim at secondary ends, that is, objects which, 
though not valuable in themselves, are the means of at- 



GROWTH OF FEELING. 



379 



taining what he desires. In this way he first acquires the 
habit of obeying his parents and teachers, of putting 
things by for future enjoyment or use, and so forth, {b) 
As a further result of growing intelligence, the child 
learns to aim at what we call permanent interests or 
ends, such as health, knowledge, and the love and esteem 
of others. He finds that excessive indulgence not only 
brings discomfort now, but may prevent his growing 
strong by and by ; that neglect of study to-day leaves 
him permanently less intelligent than he might be, and 
so forth. In other words, he recognizes the fact that 
there are permanent forms of good which can only be 
secured by a prolonged and consistent direction of ac- 
tivity. 

(b) Influence of Growth of Feeling. — In the 
second place, the volitions of the child are developed 
by the extension of the range of the desires. This is 
effected to some extent by the growth of secondary de- 
sires, that is, desires for objects, as health, property, and 
reputation, which are originally sought as means only. 
The boy's desire to be rich springs up in the first instance 
through an imagination of the many pleasures he could 
obtain by riches. But from being pursued as means of 
enjoyment, such things tend to acquire a value in them- 
selves. 

The chief agency, however, in extending the range of 
desire is the growth of new feelings. As already pointed 
out, the instinctive germs of desire have to be supple- 
mented by experiences of what is pleasurable and painful. 
And as the emotional nature unfolds, new forms of desire 
spring up. Thus, to the early motives of infancy, the 
bodily satisfactions, the pleasures of sense, and the de- 
light in activity, there are added the pleasure of competi- 
tion, the love of approbation, and the desire to please, 
and so forth. And finally, there appear as new springs of 
action the desire for knowledge and the love of duty. By 



380 MORAL ACTION: CHARACTER. 

these successive developments of the feelings new motives 
are supplied, and action is prompted in a larger number 
of directions. 

Complex Action. — A necessary result of this growth 
of intelligence and expansion of feelings and desires is 
that action grows more complex in respect of its originat- 
ing impulses or motives. Instead of being prompted by a 
single desire, it is the outcome of a number of desires. 
This compositeness of impulse may assume one of two 
forms — (a) co-operation of impulses, and (b) opposition 
of impulses. 

(a) By a co-operation of impulses is meant the com- 
bining of two or more desires in prompting action in one 
and the same direction. Thus a child may carry out an 
action partly to gain some personal satisfaction, and partly 
to please his parent or teacher. A strong bent to activity, 
with its connected love of exerting the active powers, 
leads to a frequent performance of actions under a double 
impulse. 

(b) The more important case of composition of im- 
pulses is that in which they oppose one another. Here 
two or more desires prompt to different courses. Thus, 
a child may feel impelled to indulge in a forbidden pleas- 
ure, and at the same time feel deterred by a fear of pun- 
ishment. Or he may feel attracted to two incompatible 
lines of action, as play and study. 

Deliberation and Choice. — This opposition of im- 
pulses supplies the occasion for a new and higher mani- 
festation of will. The presentation to the mind of two 
alternative courses calls for a preliminary process of re- 
flection and choice. 

In order that this operation may be carried out, a 
severe exertion or an effort of will is needed at the outset 
in checking or restraining the impulses to action. To 
reflect whether it is desirable to gain a satisfaction at the 
cost of some penalty, or which of two pleasurable ends is 



DELIBERATION AND CAUTION. 381 

the more valuable, implies that the mind has for the mo- 
ment mastered the tendency of impulse to work itself out 
into external action. 

When this first step is secured, the mind has to repre- 
sent each end distinctly and steadily, and compare the 
two one with another. Here the moral judgment is called 
on to compare and measure things in respect of their 
value and their bearing on the individual's happiness. 

The outcome of this process of deliberation is a decis- 
ion in favor of what the mind judges to be the more wor- 
thy and desirable. This is called an act of choice. It 
involves the discrimination of one thing as better than 
another. 

The ability thus to check impulse by deliberation is 
the characteristic of a fully developed and enlightened 
will. Its attainment is a slow process, which only begins 
in the first years of life. Children with their strong incli- 
nation to act find it hard to defer decision. And where a 
conflict of impulses occurs they are unable to master the 
turbulence of the conflicting desires. Hence we often 
find that the conflict resolves itself by the more powerful 
impulse working itself out, or that the child abandons the 
problem of deciding in a state of impotent despair. 

What is needed fol the attainment of this power is 
first of all a certain experience of the evils of hasty action, 
and a power of retaining and recalling these. The dispo- 
sition to deliberate presupposes that the child fears to act 
rashly. Some children are specially retentive of such evil 
effects, and so acquire this cautiousness much sooner than 
others. In the second place, the child's practical intelli- 
gence needs to be exercised and strengthened so that he 
may gradually acquire readiness in comparing actions, and 
judging with respect to their wisdom and Tightness. 

Resolution and Perseverance. — One further out- 
come of this higher volitional development is what is 
known as resolution. This term implies a fixed determi- 



382 MORAL ACTION : CHARACTER. 

nation to do something before the actual moment for per- 
formance arrives. The formation of a resolution involves 
reflection beforehand, and so a more elaborate prepara- 
tion for action. Thus a child that resolves to tell his 
mother that he has broken something must be capable of 
looking ahead and distinctly representing a set of circum- 
stances, the meeting with the mother, her questioning him, 
and so forth. 

All the more difficult and prolonged processes of ac- 
tion involve resolution. To keep steadily possessing an 
end through a series of means implies a firm hold on 
the object of desire and a fixed determination to at- 
tain it. 

While the power of deliberating and choosing gives 
reasonableness to our actions, that of persevering in our 
decisions gives firmness or stability. Children are in gen- 
eral wanting in such firmness, just as they are wanting in 
stability and consistency of judgment. A child's decisions 
are apt to be determined by the circumstances of the mo- 
ment, and to alter themselves in an amusing way as the in- 
fluences of the moment vary. The child's mind, being 
" weak in futurity," is incapable of the range of mental 
vision involved in a far-reaching resolution. 

It is important to distinguish firmness of purpose and 
stability of will from obstinacy. Firmness clearly involves 
a measure of independence, a readiness to assert our indi- 
vidual decision over and against the persuasions of others. 
At the same time, as in the case of judgment, so in that of 
voluntary resolution, there may be an excess of independ- 
ence, leading to a foolish rejection of advice and persuasion 
from others. This is known as self-will or obstinacy. It 
is distinct from a genuine firmness that reposes on calm 
and enlightened conviction, and has its main support in a 
love of self-assertion and a defiance of others. This ap- 
plies to a good deal of childish obstinacy, though it is 
probable that resistance to persuasion and authority is 



EVOLUTION OF SELF-CONTROL. 383 

often the outcome of a sincere childish assurance of the 
soundness of their decisions. 

Self-Control. — The exercise of the powers of reflec- 
tion and rational choice lead on to what is called self-con- 
trol. By this is meant the power of checking and bringing 
under the earlier and lower impulses, and subordinating 
these to the pursuit of higher and worthier ends. Self- 
control implies the development of a higher motive — 
higher, that is, both in the order of development and in 
ethical value — and the supremacy of this over a lower 
volitional force. It implies, further, the development of 
practical intelligence and the ability to deliberately prefer 
a more worthy satisfaction to a less worthy. 

Stages of Self-Control. — The acquisition of the 
power of self-control may be traced through a number of 
ascending stages. 

The simplest and earliest form is where some actual or 
immediately attainable gratification is abandoned for the 
sake of some greater satisfaction, or of the avoidance of 
some greater dissatisfaction in the future. This is illus- 
trated in the effort of an indolent child enjoying its lazi- 
ness to set about some prescribed task, and of a greedily- 
disposed child to give up the present satisfaction of eating 
his sweets in order to enjoy them on the morrow. 

A higher stage of self-control is reached when the 
child's intelligence seizes the idea of permanent ends, as 
bodily strength, knowledge, and reputation. The region 
of action now becomes more perfectly ordered by a sub- 
ordination of particular momentary impulses to enduring 
interests. Thus a present inclination to disobey is con- 
trolled by the desire for the lasting affection and good 
opinion of the parent or the teacher. 

A yet higher degree of co-ordination of desires, and 
of the reduction of the first chaos of impulses to order, 
is reached when the child's powers enable him to com- 
pare his several interests one with another, and to recog- 



384 MORAL ACTION: CHARACTER. 

nize their relative value as constituents of his total happi- 
ness. When this point of development is attained, the 
child will control the impulse to pursue the ends of popu- 
larity, intellectual eminence, and so forth, by a reference 
to a higher principle of action, viz., the attainment of 
well-being. 

The last and crowning stage of this process of sub- 
jecting impulse to principle is seen in the subordination 
of the individual interests to the common good. To aim 
at the happiness of others is not natural to the child. 
The disposition to do so has to be gradually built up. 
The readiness to postpone his own happiness to the claims 
of others presupposes a development of the social feelings 
and of the moral sentiment. 

Control of the Feelings. — In addition to this con- 
trol of impulse and action, self-control includes the mas- 
tery and regulation of other forces. 

Of these, the first is feeling. As we have seen, the 
feelings immediately vent themselves in physical actions, 
and among these the movements of the voluntary muscles, 
those of the face, arms, etc. The control of feeling is 
thus in a measure similar to that of impulse. The first 
thing a child has to do in checking the force of angry 
passion is to check or inhibit the external actions, such as 
crying and throwing the arms about. Since, moreover, 
feeling and its bodily expression are closely connected 
one with another, it follows that this arrest of external ac- 
tion will tend to some extent to allay the feeling itself. By 
making an effort to repress the signs of grief, the child 
may succeed in diminishing the force of the feeling of 
misery itself. 

What the exact effect of the restraining of the external 
manifestation of a feeling will be in any given case de- 
pends partly on the strength of the feeling. If an emo- 
tion, say of anger, is very intense, the suppression of its 
external signs may do but little to stifle the feeling itself. 



CONTROL OF FEELING. 385 

The mind may sulkily indulge its passion internally by 
brooding on ideas of satisfaction. The result of such 
external self-restraint will vary too with the temperament 
of the individual. Children whose feelings are slow to 
excite and slow to allay are specially liable to this secret 
smoldering of passion. Hence the need of some addi- 
tional means of restraining feeling. This will be spoken 
of presently. 

The due control of the feelings has a high moral sig- 
nificance. In what is called good-breeding a certain 
amount of emotional self-restraint is involved. The 
higher moral quality of considerateness implies a wider 
and more vigilant self-control, viz., the repressing of all 
feeling that would offend others. Once more, the moral 
quality of endurance includes the power to check the 
manifestations of suffering, to preserve a bodily calm when 
pain agitates the mind. 

The acquisition of the power of controlling feeling is a 
difficult and slow process. Children's feelings are char- 
acterized by their great intensity, and their complete pos- 
session and mastery of the mind. Hence the effort to 
check the outgoings of passion is a severe one. It is to 
be remembered, too, that the motives which prompt to 
such efforts of self-control, e. g., a regard for our own 
comfort, and the sense of what is seemly and right, are 
late in their development. At the same time children 
should at an early age be exercised in the easier tasks of 
self-control. Thus, as M. Perez points out, a child of fif- 
teen months may be led to stop its crying when addressed 
in a loud voice.* 

Control of the Thoughts. — The other great region 
calling for the control and regulation of the will is that of 
the intellectual processes. As was pointed out above, 
apart from this control the child's attention is drawn 
hither and thither according to the external excitants 

* Op. cit., p. 108. 
17 



386 MORAL ACTION : CHARACTER. 

present at the moment, and the succession of the thoughts 
as determined by the forces of association. The control 
of the thoughts involves the checking and counteracting 
of these tendencies, with a view to direct the attention in 
some special direction. 

This control of the intellectual tendencies involves a 
special effort of will. The child's first attempts to turn 
away from all distractions and keep his mind resolutely 
fixed on a subject indicate, by their bodily accompani- 
ments, e. g., wrinkling of the brows, fidgety movements, 
the presence of a painful effort. In order to the making 
of this effort a strong motive force is needed, such as the 
fear of disgrace or the desire to gain knowledge. The 
stronger the effort required, the more powerful must be 
the motive. 

Throughout the development of intelligence this con- 
trol of the intellectual forces by the will has been as- 
sumed. Thus careful and fruitful observation presup- 
poses the ability to keep the attention concentrated on 
one object for a time, and to resist the natural tendency 
of the mind to flit from one object to another. Again, in 
learning or committing something to memory, as also in 
trying to recall what has been learned, the will is called 
into play in the form of a deliberate concentration of the 
mind on a special subject or group of ideas. Finally, in 
the processes of constructive imagination, and of abstrac- 
tion and reasoning, this power of turning the attention 
away from what is interesting, and of resisting the forces 
of suggestion, is called into exercise in a yet higher 
form. 

Different Forms of Self-Control. — While thus 
dealing separately with the control of impulses, of the 
feelings, and of the thoughts, we must remember that they 
are closely connected one with another. More particu- 
larly we may say that the control of the thoughts is in- 
volved in that of the feelings, and that the control both of 



CONTROL OF THE FEELINGS. 387 

the feelings and of the thoughts is involved in that of im- 
pulse and action. 

(1) As has been observed, every emotion is excited 
by, and so depends upon, some mode of intellectual 
activity, as looking at what is dreadful, or recollecting 
some injury. Hence, to control the thoughts is one 
means of controlling the feelings. It was pointed out 
just now that we can only very imperfectly repress feeling 
by checking the accompanying external movements. The 
only efficient way of reaching and mastering the force of 
feeling is by turning the thoughts from its exciting cause, 
and directing them to something wholly foreign and un- 
connected. A child's feeling of disappointment is only 
fully controlled when by an effort of will he turns his 
thoughts in some other direction. The beginnings of 
moral training in this direction should aim at the repres- 
sion of feeling by a withdrawal of the mind from its excit- 
ing cause.* 

(2) Again, since feeling and thought are both involved 
in action, the perfect control of the active impulses in- 
cludes the control of these. Thus the impulse to do an 
unkind action is only completely overcome when the 
feeling of anger out of which it springs is repressed, and 
the remembrance of the injury which excites the feeling 
banished from the mind. Hence the importance assigned 
by moralists to the control of the desires and thoughts 
"of the heart." 

Habit and Conduct. — The principle of habit, the 
application of which to the region of voluntary move- 
ment has already been considered, reigns in the higher 
region of moral action or conduct as well. The processes 
of deliberation and control just described only attain to a 

* Dr. Sikorski gives an interesting account of how he began to 
habituate an infant to bear the discomfort of hunger by interesting it 
in the details of the process of preparing food. (" Revue Philoso- 
phique," May, 1885, p. 540.) 



388 MORAL ACTION : CHARACTER. 

perfect form when they become fixed by the law of 
habit. 

The fundamental fact emphasized by the word habit 
is that all actions become more perfect by repetition. 
Just as bodily movements, at first tentative, unsteady, 
and involving effort, come by repetition to be certain, 
steady, and easy, so the higher exercises of the will in the 
arrest of impulse and deliberation tend to grow more per- 
fect by steady pursuance. 

At first the child, when his action is arrested by an ap- 
prehension of evil consequences, is apt to be overpowered 
by the contending impulses, and is incapable of decision. 
But after he has once made a serious effort to end the 
state of conflict, and decided to act according to reason, 
he has taken an important step in moral development. 
The next time a collision occurs reflection and decision 
will be easier. The vehement forces of impulse will have 
been reined in to some extent. Every new exercise of 
the power makes the pause, the consideration, the final 
calm decision a less arduous exertion. The whole pro- 
cess grows smoother, involving less and less of the friction 
of effort, till as a final result reflection and deliberate 
choice become easy and natural. 

Moral Habits. — The same principle of habit has fur- 
ther and yet more striking results in the region of moral 
action. The subordination of a lower impulse to a higher 
motive, which at the outset involves a painful effort of 
arrest and reflection, tends by repetition of the exertion 
to grow less and less difficult and irksome. Thus each 
restraint of greed from a consideration of its evil effects, 
or of selfish propensity for the sake of others' good, tends 
to fix action in this particular line. That is to say, the 
higher moral force gains ground as a ruling disposition, 
and encounters less and less resistance. The outcome of 
this process of growth is a perfect moral or virtuous habit, 
which implies a firm disposition to seek a definite species 



FORMATION OF CHARACTER. 389 

of good, as health, and in its more intelligent form a will- 
ing adoption of a general principle or maxim of conduct, 
as " Obey the laws of health." 

The conditions of the formation of habits already 
pointed out have to be satisfied here. The initial effort 
must be secured by a strength of motive sufficient to over- 
come the difficulty of the action and the disinclination to 
what is irksome. In the second place, there must be 
perseverance and an uninterrupted following up of the 
first success till the principle of habit fixes the moral 
acquisition. And in order to this the will must not 
in the early stages be exposed to too powerful a tempta- 
tion. 

Character. — The term character is often used loosely 
to denote individual peculiarities of mind, whether intel- 
lectual or moral, and whether showing themselves at the 
outset as strongly-marked innate tendencies, or later as 
the result of experience and education. In a narrower 
and more accurate sense it signifies the acquired results of 
individual volitional exertion, such as intelligence, insight, 
independence, and firmness of will. 

Since moral attainments, viz., good dispositions and 
habits, are the most valuable result of such volitional ex- 
ertion, the term character has come in ethical and educa- 
tional works to denote in a special way a good or virtuous 
disposition of the feelings and of the will. A person of 
character in this sense is one who can be counted on in 
general to decide and act wisely and rightly. 

This moral or virtuous character is the resultant of the 
several forms of self-control carried to the point of perfect 
habits. Thus a perfect moral character includes the fa- 
miliar habits involved in a wise pursuit of individual good, 
such as industry, orderliness, temperance, the habitual 
control of the feelings or moderation, and the firm con- 
trol of the thoughts involved in reasonableness. It in- 
cludes further the habits implied in a perfect fulfillment 



390 MORAL ACTION : CHARACTER. 

of human duty, as obedience, courtesy, veracity, justice, 
and beneficence. 

It is commonly said that moral character is a bundle 
of habits, such as is here roughly sketched out. This is 
an important definition of moral character, since it brings 
out the essential ingredient of fixity of disposition in right 
directions. At the same time it must not be thought that 
a perfect character shows itself in a habitual and quasi- 
mechanical pursuance of a number of detached ends or 
forms of good. Self-control aims, as we have seen, at co- 
ordinating and harmonizing the several desires and ends 
one with another, subordinating them to some supreme 
end or ideal of good ; and a perfect character includes a 
disposition to reflect and deliberate when occasion re- 
quires, e. g., where there is an apparent conflict of duties, 
in order to determine what is the more worthy form of 
good, and where the path of duty exactly lies.* 

External Control of the Will. — So far we have 
assumed that the child's will develops spontaneously with- 
out any direct control and direction from without. It is 
evident, however, that the acquisition of the power of 
reflection and of the moral habits is greatly furthered by 
the action of others, and especially those who exercise 
authority over the child. As we saw in tracing the growth 
of the moral sentiment, the influence of authority and 
moral discipline is a necessary condition in the formation 
of that sense of duty, the supremacy of which marks the 
highest stage of self-control. A mere glance, moreover, at 
the circumstances of early life tells us that the actions of 
the child are regulated and determined to a considerable 
extent by the wishes and commands of others. This fact 
is recognized in the saying that the first stage in the 

* "Virtue can never become a sum of habits, and for this plain 
reason : there is not a single good habit except the habit of being good 
(i. e., of a good will) that may not conflict with real duty at some point 
or other." (Mrs. Bryant.) 



NATURE OF MORAL DISCIPLINE. 



391 



development of moral habits is the learning of obedi- 
ence. 

The training of the child's will by the moral educator 
proceeds partly by way of the restraints of authority and 
command, and partly by way of suasion, advice, and en- 
lightenment. 

Authority and Obedience. — The action and effect 
of moral discipline presuppose the existence of some 
authority. The discipline of early life is dependent on 
the fact that the parent or other guardian of the child is 
invested with certain powers of government. By these 
are meant the power to lay down commands, and to sup- 
port and enforce these by the sanctions of punishment. 
By so doing he can require the performance of certain 
actions, such as those involved in industry, orderliness, 
etc., and also prohibit other actions which he holds to be 
undesirable, as acts of rudeness and personal violence. 

While moral discipline is thus based on the power to 
enforce obedience by punishment, it must be carefully 
distinguished from external compulsion. The physical 
coercion exercised by the slave-owner or the brutal parent 
is not, strictly speaking, a moral force at all. The threat 
of immediate physical suffering of an intense kind pro- 
duces the agitation of terror, which paralyzes the will. A 
mechanical compliance follows under the overwhelming 
force of dread, but this is not conscious and willing obedi- 
ence to authority.* 

Once more, the relation of authority to obedience 
can not be said to exist where commands are laid down 
in such a way that the subject is able to coolly balance 
the pleasures and pains of disobedience, just as he would 
balance those of a strictly private and personal act. In 
such a case the will is undoubtedly called into play in the 

* See what Locke says on the effect of corporal punishment and 
"slavish discipline" in breeding a "slavish temper." "On Educa- 
tion," §§ 50, 51. 



392 MORAL ACTION : CHARACTER. 

processes of deliberation and choice. But the effect is 
not strictly a moral effect. 

True obedience to authority rests on an acknowledge- 
ment on the part of the governed of the moral, as well as 
the physical, superiority of the governor. Only where 
there is this feeling can there be an act of self-control 
properly so-called, that is, a conscious subordination of a 
lower impulse to a higher principle of action. This atti- 
tude of self-submission to authority presupposes, on the 
one side, the position and qualities fitted to call forth re- 
spect, and, on the other, a disposition to reverence and 
bow to mental and moral superiority. 

In the case of young children this sense of authority 
is partly instinctive, partly the result of an apprehension 
of a special relation of dependence on the parent or other 
guardian, and partly the product of the daily experience 
of his wisdom and goodness. The effect of custom and 
special association with a person in developing this feeling 
is seen in the familiar fact that a child that is habitually 
submissive to his parent or nurse will violently resent the 
assumption of authority by a stranger.* 

While in its earlier forms the respect for authority 
which prompts to obedience is largely a feeling for a per- 
son, it gradually becomes a more intelligent appreciation 
of the moral function of the ruler as the representative 
and upholder of the impersonal moral law. 

The Ends and Grounds of Early Discipline. — 
It is commonly allowed that children are the proper sub- 
jects of authority and command. Their ignorance and 
incapacity to decide about things necessitates the laying 
down of certain commands by those who have charge of 
them. These commands have as one of their ends to pre- 
serve the child from the evil effects of his ignorance and 
want of foresight. The commands of the nursery, as not 

* For an illustration see Perez, " The First Three Years of Child- 
hood," p. 291. 



METHODS OF EARLY DISCIPLINE. 



393 



to play with the candle, and so forth, aim at warding off 
physical harm. That such prohibitions are necessary will 
be generally allowed. To leave children altogether to the 
"discipline of consequences," in the shape of Nature's 
penalties for violating her laws, would be too dangerous 
an experiment for an affectionate parent to undertake. 
And even later on, the child needs to be guarded against 
physical evils, e. g., those resulting from overindulgence 
in the pleasures of the table. 

But the institution of early discipline has other ends 
and uses. As moral training it aims at leading action into 
right or virtuous channels, in building up good moral 
habits, and forming the character. 

That some external control of the child's action by 
discipline and restraint is necessary for moral purposes, 
will probably be conceded. The most optimistic view of 
childish nature must recognize the existence of natural 
impulses, e. g., greediness and covetousness, which require 
firm restraining. Nor can it be safely contended that the 
natural consequences of wrong actions in the loss of the 
parent's society and confidence can be counted on in the 
first years of life to deter from such actions. And even 
were such natural penalties sufficient to deter the child, 
they would not tend to develop a truly moral disposition 
toward right conduct. As already pointed out, an indis- 
pensable step in the formation of a sense of duty is the 
assertion and exercise of authority over the child, the 
making him feel that there is a higher will over his which 
he has to obey. 

It may be safely contended that obedience, in the sense 
already defined, is in itself a moral habit, forming indeed 
one chief virtue of childhood. A readiness to repress 
personal desire, in deference to a command that is felt to 
be authoritative, can only be acquired by a certain 
amount of effort of will and reflection on the true value of 
things. 



394 



MORAL ACTION: CHARACTER. 



Nevertheless, it is a common and fatal error to regard 
obedience to personal authority as an end in itself. The 
ingredient in childish obedience which constitutes it a 
moral exercise is the dim apprehension of the reasonable- 
ness and moral obligatoriness of what is laid down. And 
the ultimate end of moral discipline is to strengthen this 
feeling, and so transfer the sentiment of submission from 
a person to a law which that person represents and em- 
bodies. It is only when this finer and higher obedience 
to law or principle is reached that authority can be said 
to have done its work. Commands are a scaffolding which 
performs a necessary temporary function in the building 
up of a self-sufficient habit of right conduct. 

Conditions of Moral Discipline. — By a moral dis- 
cipline we mean a system of moral rules, properly laid 
down, understood, and enforced. The first condition of 
such a system is the imposition of general commands or 
rules for acting. The exercise of authority in prohibiting 
isolated actions is not discipline. A mother who says 
" Don't do that," and who visits this and that particular 
action with a slap or a " Naughty child ! " without making 
clear what it is in the action that is prohibited, is not a 
moral ruler at all. A ruler is an imposer of general rules, 
which direct the subject how to act in a certain class of 
cases. 

In order that a rule may be operative it must satisfy 
one or two main conditions, (a) It must refer to an action 
that the child may reasonably be expected to be able to 
perform, and that the ruler is sure of being able to exact. 
Thus, as Miss Edgeworth remarks, prohibitions, e. g., 
" Do not touch the lamp," are more easily enforced than 
positive requirements, as " Stand up." * (o) The rule 

*" Practical Education," vol. i, p. 269. Madame Necker thinks 
that children, though disposed to submit to prohibitions, are apt to re- 
sent positive commands as an unfair encroachment on their liberty. 
Op. cit., liv. iii, chap. ii. 



THE MISUSE OF RULES. 395 

must be intelligible. If, for example, a child is told not 
to tell stories, without having a clear idea what this means, 
it can not produce any moral effect, (c) It must be uni- 
formly enforced. Only so will the necessary strength of 
association between action and penalty be produced. 
When a rule is deviated from, the child can not feel its 
sovereign authority as a moral command, and is moreover 
disposed to decide to obey or disobey by a process of 
purely prudential calculation. These conditions are es- 
sential to the formation of a habit of perfect and unhesi- 
tating obedience. 

As already pointed out, a fixed moral habit needs a 
firm application of a sufficent strength of motive at the 
outset, and a constant following up of the requirement. 
Hence the importance of laying down the command in 
the most impressive and authoritative manner, and seeing 
that it is never disobeyed in any single case. 

Since the learning of obedience to any rule is a matter 
of time, it is of the greatest consequence not to lay down 
too many at once. "I have seen," says Locke, "Parents 
so heap Rules on their Children, that it was impossible 
for the poor little Ones to remember a tenth Part of them, 
much less to observe them." 

Punishment. — As already observed, authority and 
command presuppose the power to punish. By punish- 
ment is meant the intentional and deliberate infliction of 
pain of some sort by one invested with authority, and as a 
consequence of an act of disobedience. 

It follows from this definition that a natural consequence of an 
action, e. g., a fall resulting from a forbidden act of climbing a ladder, 
is not punishment. Nor is all suffering that issues from the person in 
authority punishment. Thus the natural loss of confidence and affection 
that follows a discovery of a child's falsehood is not, strictly speaking, 
punishment. Still less is any outburst of spiteful retaliation at the 
personal annoyance arising from a child's disobedience. " It is," says 
Waitz, " the first condition of the proper effect of punishment that it 
should be apprehended and felt by the child as punishment." 



396 MORAL ACTION : CHARACTER. 

It has already been implied that punishment, actual 
or potential, is necessarily implied in any system of moral 
discipline. Punishment has two chief ends : (a) the cor- 
rection and improvement of the individual offender, and 
{b) the instruction and benefit of others by way of example 
and warning. These ends are not always equally promi- 
nent. In the penalties inflicted by the magistrate the 
deterring effect on others is the chief thing considered. 
With the educator of the young the reformation of the 
individual is the first and supreme consideration. In the 
home this is the chief thing aimed at, though effect on 
others is not wholly lost sight of. And in the school this 
last consideration becomes more distinct, without, how- 
ever, becoming the ruling consideration, as in the case of 
the State. 

At the same time it is evident that punishment by in- 
flicting pain on the child is in itself an evil. Hence it is 
generally acknowledged that it can only be justified when 
it is necessary for the realization of the ends for the sake 
of which it is instituted. 

The evils of punishment from an educator's point of view are nu- 
merous and serious. (1) It is a form of suffering, and so opposed to 
the humane purposes of education. (2) It tends to estrange educator 
and learner, and to render the latter indisposed to ally himself in sym- 
pathy and co-operation with the former. (3) By acting through the 
instinctive fear of pain it has no stimulative force in it beyond the 
point exacted. In this way it is immeasurably inferior in its action to 
pleasurable motives, as the wish to please, or the love of study. These 
objections apply to all punishments alike. To this must be added that 
certain forms of punishment are apt to produce bad moral effects by 
overhumiliating and degrading the child. 

There are certain plain limits to the use of punish- 
ment. Thus it ought not to be resorted to when through 
weakness of will a child is incapable of doing a thing. 
The object of punishment, so far as corrective of the 
delinquent, is to supply a new moral force which may 
suffice to counteract a natural inclination to wrong-doing. 



CARE REQUIRED IN PUNISHMENT. 397 

And if the punishment does not supply such a force, 
through feebleness of will, it is useless and therefore cruel. 
Thus to punish a child overpowered by grief for not in- 
stantly controlling its feelings is barbarous. Again, no 
action is a proper subject for punishment which is not 
clearly wrong in its intention. Hence to punish a child 
for breaking something through an ordinary childish care- 
lessness is immoral. 

Proportioning of Punishment. — Not only does it 
need much care to determine what cases are meet for 
punishment, it requires much consideration to fix rightly 
the amount of punishment in particular cases. Here a 
number of considerations have to be taken into account. 
Thus, so far as the punishment is intended to deter others, 
regard must be had to the degree of harmfulness of the 
action, and of the moral turpitude it implies, also to the 
secrecy of the wrong action, and the consequent difficulty 
of detecting it. And, so far as it aims at correcting the 
wrong-doer himself, the punishment must be determined 
by a careful reference to the circumstances of the case, so 
far as aggravating or mitigating the offense, and also to 
the known sensibilities and moral character of the child, 
so that enough and not more than enough supplementary 
force may be applied to correct the wrong action.* 

It follows that the moral educator can not make known 
beforehand, except in general terms, the precise amount 
of punishment that will be incurred by a given class of 
offense. Nor is this desirable. On the contrary, a pre- 
cise foreknowledge of the amount of suffering would favor 
that prudential estimation of the evil of punishment which 
it is one chief concern of the educator to avoid. 

* Dettes distinguishes between the problem of dealing with wrong 
actions that are done clandestinely in order to evade punishment, and 
that of handling acts of open defiance (" Erziehungs- und Unterrichts- 
lehre," p. 183). On the proper proportioning of punishment to offense, 
consult Waitz {op. cit., p. 179, etc). 



398 MORAL ACTION : CHARACTER. 

While judgment and insight are thus needed to fix the 
amount of punishment in any case, they are further re- 
quired for determining the most appropriate kinds of pun- 
ishment. Here it is important to choose some mode of 
pain which, in the first place, is little affected by individual 
differences of sensibility, so that it can be administered 
justly in the case of all children alike ; and, secondly, 
which easily lends itself to quantitative estimation and 
gradation, so that it may be varied in quantity according 
to the circumstances. To these prime considerations may 
be added that that mode of punishment is to be preferred 
which is in its nature appropriate to the offense, or, as 
Bentham has it, "characteristical," e. g., confinement dur- 
ing play hours for previous neglect of work.* 

Reward, Encouragement. — Punishment, being a 
mode of pain, deters from action rather than excites to 
activity. Even where it is employed as a stimulus to 
action, as when a child is punished for not preparing his 
lesson, its depressing influence is still seen. The little 
delinquent feels himself forced to be industrious, and his 
activity is in consequence put forth without heartiness, 
and even grudgingly. Moreover, as a mode of pain, the 
fear of punishment, though undoubtedly a potent motive, 
has only a restricted range. As soon as the exacted quan- 
tity of task-work is done, the pressure of the motive ceases. 

Moral discipline includes not only the checking of 
impulse by deterrents, but the stimulating of activity by 
positive inducements. That is to say, it makes use not 
merely of the child's natural aversion to pain, but of his 
equally natural and more far-reaching desire for pleasure. 
It may be a question how far such artificial stimuli are 
necessary or desirable. Where it is possible it is no doubt 
well for a child to be industrious, good, and so on, for the 
sake of others' good opinion and love. But the weakness 

* On the rule given by Bentham for proportioning punishment to 
offense, see Bain, " Education as a Science," p. 106, note. 



THE DANGERS OF REWARDS. 



399 



of the social feelings in children makes some amount of 
artificial stimulation necessary in the early stages of moral 
training. 

In administering rewards much caution is needed if 
moral development is not to be retarded instead of being 
advanced. To begin with, nothing is worse than bribing 
a child to do a thing which he ought to be required to do 
by a sense of duty or, if need be, a fear of punishment. 
To promise a child something, for instance, if he will stop 
crying or if he will speak the truth is demoralizing.* 

The main condition of the moral efficacy of a reward 
is that it is conferred on merit, that is, as the result of 
some exercise of virtue over and above what can be right- 
fully insisted on as obligatory. The more clearly it is 
made evident that the reward is thus a recognition of a 
genuinely virtuous act, the more powerful its e.ffect. It 
follows that the word of praise or the tangible recompense 
should not appear to the child to be the mere outcome of 
personal affection and tenderness on the rewarder's side, 
but as the authoritative acknowledgment of desert. 

It follows from this definition of the aim and function 
of rewards that they ought not to be too frequently be- 
stowed. A frequent and lavish bestowment of rewards is 
fatal to the association in the child's mind of recompense 
with real merit. It favors the view that he has a right to 
the reward, f 

Judged by their moral effects, some kinds of reward 
are superior to others. Gifts and material rewards gener- 
ally, by appealing to children's lower feelings, have a much 
smaller moral value than praise or commendation, that 

* As Waitz observes, rewards are in certain respects more dangerous 
to morality than punishments ; for these at most produce fear of evil, 
while those make the positive stimulus of desire for pleasure the mo- 
tive to duty {op. cit., p. 185). 

f As Waitz observes, it is well sometimes to reward a child unex- 
pectedly, and not to let him count on a definite reward beforehand. 



400 



MORAL ACTION ; CHARACTER. 



gratifies the higher feelings, love of approbation and affec- 
tion. It is hardly necessary to add that rewards, like pun- 
ishments, must be graduated to the degrees of merit, and 
as far as possible made appropriate to the nature of the 
virtuous act. 

Where, as in the school, rewards are given as prizes for 
successful competition with others in intellectual pursuits, 
the moral effect becomes very much circumscribed. As 
already pointed out, the impulse of rivalry tends to be 
anti-social, and the eager competition for prizes has a 
baneful rather than a beneficial effect on the moral charac- 
ter. 

Since the moral effect of reward depends on its being 
recognized as the fruit of virtuous exertion, school rewards 
can only have such effect when they are conferred not on 
the ground of absolute attainment, which is largely deter- 
mined by natural superiority, but on that of individual 
progress. To give a prize to a clever boy is not, strictly 
speaking, an act of moral discipline at all. On the other 
hand, to reward a boy for special exertion comes under 
that category, since it distinctly recognizes the moral ele- 
ment in intellectual industry.* 

Development of Free-will. — As already pointed 
out, the aim of discipline is to build up independent vir- 
tuous habits. Hence punishments and rewards should 
always be used sparingly, and only as a temporary means 
of fixing good habits. As the child grows and is able to 
comprehend the intrinsic reasonableness of the commands 
laid down, he should be appealed to as a free agent able 
to choose the better. Only in this way can moral discipline 
be made a means of developing the power of deliberate 
reflection and choice, self-control, and moral character. 

The parent and teacher must be on their guard against 
an overgovernment and overcontrol of the child's actions. 

* On the considerations applicable to rewards, see Locke, op. cit., 
§§ 5 2 < 53 5 Bain, op. cit.,p. 112, and following. 



CHARAC1ER A COMPLEX RESULT. 401 

The power of intelligent choice of what is good can only 
be exercised when a margin of free activity is secured to 
the child from the first. The child's own region of spon- 
taneous activity or play must be respected. And as the 
intelligence expands he must be invited and encouraged 
to reflect for himself as to what is best for his happiness 
and usefulness. External control may easily be carried to 
excess, not only by an exaggerated view of the disciplina- 
rian's function, but also by that eagerness to influence and 
sway another's actions which springs out of weak affection 
and a parental habit. The formation of character requires 
other influences besides that of the educator : the collis- 
ions of the individual with external circumstances and the 
lessons of experience. The teaching of Rousseau, Mr. 
Spencer, and others, as to the importance of making the 
young early acquainted, by personal contact and experi- 
ence, with the laws of the physical and the social world, 
forms a valuable part of a sound theory of moral educa- 
tion. Even advice is erroneously proffered in cases where 
it is perfectly safe for a child to be allowed to discover the 
folly or wisdom of a course for himself. In the moral as 
in the intellectual region it is indisputable that the child's 
faculty is far more effectually exercised when he discovers 
a truth for himself than when he is merely taught it by an- 
other. 

Discipline of the Home and of the School.— The 
home may be called the nursery-garden of moral charac- 
ter. If the will and moral character are not nourished 
and strengthened here, they will fare but ill when trans- 
planted to the bleaker surroundings of school-life. In the 
home the whole of the child's life is in a manner brought 
under the supervision of the educator. Not only so, the 
strong and close affection which grows up between the 
parent and child gives a unique character to the home 
discipline. On the one side, the mother is solicitous about 
her charge as the teacher can not be, and is far better 



4 02 MORAL ACTION: CHARACTER. 

able as well as much more strongly disposed to study his 
moral peculiarities. On the other side, the child's feeling 
of dependence and his gratitude and love are strong forces 
tending from the first in the direction of obedience. 
Here, then, the foundations of character have to be laid if 
they are to be laid at all. The relations of home, more- 
over, serve to bring out and exercise all the moral habits, 
not only the rougher virtues of obedience, veracity, the 
sense of right and justice, etc., but the more delicate vir- 
tues of sympathy, kindliness, and self-sacrifice. 

Contrasted with this, the discipline of the school has 
but a very restricted moral effect. The immediate object 
of school discipline is indeed not moral training at all, but 
rather the carrying on of the special business of the 
school, namely, teaching. Incidentally the management 
of a school necessarily does subserve moral education, 
calling forth habits of obedience, orderliness, industry, 
deference, etc. And the teacher is expected to make the 
best of his opportunities for training the will and forming 
the character of his pupils. The limitations here are ob- 
vious. The first is the restricted range of life brought 
under the master's control. School occupations are a 
kind of artificial addition to the child's natural life, and 
offer but little scope for the play of individual feelings 
and motives. Again, since the teacher has to do with 
numbers, there must necessarily be wanting the aid of 
those moral forces of close individual sympathy and strong 
personal attachment which play so important a part in 
home discipline. 

These defects are, however, made good to some extent 
by the presence of a new agency in the school, namely, 
that of public opinion. We have already glanced at the 
effect of this in shaping and giving strength to the grow- 
ing moral sentiment of the individual. To this must now 
be added that the public opinion of a school, when rightly 
directed and serving to support morality, is a potent factor 



DISCIPLINE OF THE HOME AND SCHOOL. 403 

in early education. In early life the pressure of a mass of 
unanimous sentiment, and the influence of custom show- 
ing itself on a wide scale, are needed to supplement the 
work of parental and tutorial discipline. For the average 
child the reign of custom and law in a public school has a 
stimulating and invigorating effect. Respect for law, the 
sense of honor, and a manly self-reliance are nourished 
and strengthened. The influence only becomes injurious 
when it favors a perverted idea of duty and a false senti- 
ment of honor ; or when, ceasing to recognize its proper 
limits, and growing excessive and arbitrary, it tends to 
crush individuality. 

APPENDIX. 
On discipline and the formation of character, see Locke, " On Edu- 
cation," especially §§ 32-117 ; Miss Edgevvorth, " Practical Educa- 
tion," chap, ix ; Mme. Necker, " L'Education," livre i, chap, iv-vi ; 
and livre vi, chap, iv ; H. Spencer, " Education," chap, iii ; Bain, 
" Education as Science," pp. 100-119 ; Beneke, " Erziehungs- unci 
Unterrichtslehre," Kap. 2, " Gemiiths- und Charakterbildung " ; Waitz, 
" Allgemeine Paedagogik," §§ n-15, pp. 140-213 ; Dittes, " Grundriss 
der Erziehungs- und Unterrichtslehre," 5. Abschnitt. 



APPENDIX A. 

PERIODS OF DEVELOPMENT. 

In tracing out successively the several directions of 
mental development, we run the risk of overlooking the 
nature of the actual process, viz., the unfolding and ex- 
pansion of the mind as a whole. Concrete mental devel- 
opment is at once an intellectual, an emotional, and a 
volitional progress, in which each factor acts upon and is 
acted upon by the others. Hence it is desirable to sup- 
plement the analytic and abstract treatment of mental de- 
velopment, which proceeds by dealing separately with 
intelligence, feeling, and will, by a concrete treatment 
which aims at marking the successive stages of the mental 
history. 

The perfect carrying out of this supplementary method 
would yield a record of successive periods of mental 
growth, which are clearly marked off one from another 
by certain dominant characteristics, physical and psychi- 
cal. A careful sketch of each of these periods, with all 
the characteristic changes which distinguish it from pre- 
ceding stages, would supply a valuable addition to the 
theory of mental development. Such a concrete and de- 
scriptive treatment of the subject would, moveover, be of 
special value to the educator, who is called on to deal with 
minds at a particular stage in their history, and who con- 
sequently needs to know the special psychical features 



4 o6 APPENDIX A. 

the relative strength of different capacities, impulses, etc., 
which distinguish the age. 

It is not to be wondered at, therefore, that writers on 
education have adopted this mode of tracing the complex 
movements of mental growth. Thus Beneke, in the work 
referred to, distinguishes between four periods : (i) To 
about the end of the third year, in which the conscious- 
ness of self and not-self gradually unfolds, and which is 
characterized by the predominance of the outer sense-life, 
including instinct. (2) To about the end of the seventh 
year, in which the inner mental activity gradually develops 
itself to the point of equilibrium with the receptive func- 
tions of sense, and which is characterized by the rise of 
the representative element as seen both in the greater 
depth of the precepts and in the growing activity of mem- 
ory and imagination, and also by the gradual displacement 
of instinctive impulse by conscious design. (3) To about 
the end of the fourteenth year, in which the inner self- 
activity becomes free from the bonds of sense and acquires 
a preponderance, first and chiefly as imaginative activity, 
then as a tendency to abstract reflection or thought. (4) 
To the close of school-life, in which the higher mental 
powers are more fully developed, and which forms a tran- 
sition to the period of independent, intellectual, and moral 
activity. 

A more careful and elaborate division of the mental 
life into periods is attempted by Pfisterer, in the work on 
pedagogic psychology, already referred to : (1) Accord- 
ing to this plan the first period is marked off as the suck- 
ling age (to end of first year), in which the bodily life and 
sense are in the ascendant, and instinct takes the place of 
will. (2) Next comes the age of childhood, from the sec- 
ond to the seventh year, which is regarded as the begin- 
ning of the school period. Here there manifests itself a 
germ of self-consciousness, though the outer world is still 
engrossing. Curiosity shows itself in its lowest form as a 



PERIODS OF DEVELOPMENT. 407 

desire for novelty. Memory and imagination are active, 
and the rudimentary stage of abstract thought or concep- 
tion is reached. Activity is abundant under the form of 
free, aimless play. The disposition to respect authority 
and to form habits of obedience now shows itself, assum- 
ing, toward the close of the period, something of the aspect 
of a willing, reflective submission to moral rules. Feeling 
now loses something of its first violence, and is being or- 
ganized into permanent dispositions (Stimmungen). (3) 
After this follows the period of boyhood and girlhood, 
from the seventh to about the fourteenth year. This con- 
stitutes the period of elementary school instruction. It 
is marked by a clearer exhibition of individual peculiari- 
ties. The intellectual processes gain in steadiness under 
the control of a stronger will-power. Hence there becomes 
possible the more orderly constructive activity involved in 
learning, as well as the methodical formation of abstract 
ideas. A growing habit of self-control now asserts itself. 
The progress of intellectual and volitional capacity leads 
to the development of independent judgment, free choice, 
and self-reliance. Finally, this period is characterized by 
the development of new feelings, viz., the social, intellect- 
ual, and aesthetic sentiments. (4) The period of youth, 
forming the interval between the school period and man- 
hood, and supplying the transition to perfect independ- 
ence and self-reliance in thought, feeling, and action, is only 
briefly glanced at. 

It is to be added that these divisions of early mental 
development into periods, though useful as a rough index 
to the mental characteristics of a given age, are not to be 
regarded as having sharply defined boundaries. Mental 
development is throughout one smooth, continuous move- 
ment, not a succession of discrete movements or separate 
springs. An approximation to a definite boundary-mark 
is supplied at one or two points of the road. Of these the 
first is the well-marked termination of the helplessness of 



408 APPENDIX A. 

infancy by the development of the muscular system, bring- 
ing (at about the same date) the power of self-feeding, 
locomotion, and speech. This development of muscular 
power brings a vast extension of the field of observation 
and knowledge, as well as of that of voluntary action. 
Another date, hardly less epoch-making, is the attainment 
of puberty, a point of development in which certain physi- 
cal changes, bringing with them new instincts, are apt to 
affect profoundly the intensity and the range of the emo- 
tional life as a whole, and along with this to exert a marked 
influence on the directions of intellectual activity and of 
conduct. 



•v 



APPENDIX B. 

MEASUREMENT OF FACULTY. 

One of the most hopeful developments of modern psy- 
chology is the attempt to reach an exact quantitative esti- 
mation of mental processes. This introduction of a more 
exact mode of measurement of mental phenomena is likely 
to have important practical effects on the theory of edu- 
cation. 

The teacher may undertake a systematic measurement 
of the faculties of his pupils for one of two reasons, (i) 
For one thing, a collection of comparative measurements 
is greatly needed as a statistical basis in building up a 
more exact psychology of childhood. Thus the theory of 
mental development, which aims at fixing with some ap- 
proach to precision the date at which certain faculties 
begin to acquire strength, and the rapidity of the pro- 
cesses of development, would be rendered more definite 
and certain by a body of methodical records of mental 
progress carried out by teachers. 

One branch of the science of education, very imper- 
fectly developed at present, and likely to receive consid- 
erable aid from such a systematic collection of measure- 
ments, is the influence of sex on mind. Much that has 
been written on this subject, being the result of the obser- 
vations of many generations, has a certain empirical value, 
such as the common attribution to girls of greater sensi- 
18 



4 lO APPENDIX B. 

bility, a tendency to the concrete rather than the abstract, 
as well as a greater rapidity of mental development.* 
Nevertheless, these generalizations are wanting in scien- 
tific exactness and certainty, and, on the other hand, the 
deductions drawn from physiological facts stand in sore 
need of a careful verification. The pressing problem of 
modern education, how far it is well to subject the minds 
of boys and of girls to the same amount and kind of edu- 
cational stimulus, requires for its solution the assistance 
not only of physiological truths, which are undoubtedly 
of great value here, but of psychological facts. A body 
of carefully prepared statistics on the comparative mental 
capabilities of children of both sexes, and their relative 
rapidity of development, is urgently needed just now. 

(2) While a systematic measurement of children's fac- 
ulties is thus of great consequence for perfecting the theo- 
retic basis of education, it is of hardly less importance in 
carrying out efficiently the practical work of teaching. 
The success of school or class teaching depends, to a large 
extent, on a good arrangement of individuals according 
to their special powers and correlative tastes. Every such 
classification presupposes some more or less exact esti- 
mate of the individual child's capabilities by oral exami- 
nation or otherwise. But ordinary educational tests of 
capacity are apt, from the nature of the case, to be rough 
and precarious. They are wanting in scientific aim and 
in scientific method. They aim at best at a rough valua- 
tion of so highly complex a product as " general intelli- 
gence," instead of at a precise measurement of the root- 
elements of mental capacity. 

What is wanted for a fruitful carrying out of such 
measurements is psychological guidance as to the funda- 
mental constituents of mental power, and the way in 
which these vary. Such variations, being known to be 

* Pfisterer sums up the commonly recognized points of sexual dif- 
ference. " Paed. Psychologie," Kap. 3, § 23. 



MEASUREMENT OF FACULTY, 411 

correlated with nervous differences, should be expressed 
in terms of mental and nervous capacity. The old doc- 
trine of individual temperaments, and the newer theory of 
phrenology, each of which sought to supply a scientific 
principle of classification, have now become discredited. 
And more recent attempts to find a substitute for these 
can hardly be said to be satisfactory. Thus the mode of 
distinguishing individual aptitude common among Ger- 
man writers on pedagogy, viz., according to the degree 
of sensibility to stimulus, vivacity or rapidity of the mental 
processes, and strength and tenacity of impression, though 
suggestive and valuable, is obviously imperfect.* With- 
out attempting here to propose a fully-developed scheme 
of mental measurement, I would point out the lines which 
such a scheme should follow. 

A truly scientific and systematic measurement of men- 
tal power should set out with a detailed examination of 
the senses. And here modern science comes to the teach- 
er's aid both in ascertaining the several modes of vari- 
ation of sense-capacity, and in selecting the best way of 
measuring these. The important conception of a thresh- 
old or lower limit of capacity serves at once to give pre- 
cision to the investigation. Thus the most valuable intel- 
lectual element in sense-capacity, viz., discriminative 
power, can be exactly tested by determining the smallest 
difference of degree or quality that can be detected by 
the child. Although the perfect carrying out of a system- 
atic examination of discriminative capacity in the case 
of all the senses necessitates carefully prepared apparatus, 
a good deal may be done by means of quite simple prepa- 
rations. Thus the limits of color-discrimination may be 
determined by ascertaining the finest perceptible differ- 
ences of shade of a graduated series of blues, greens, etc.f 

* This threefold distinction is given by Beneke and adopted by 
Dittes. 

\ Mr. Galton's way of testing color, explained in his " Life-History 



412 



APPENDIX B. 



In a similar way the discrimination of form-elements might 
be tested by noting what is the smallest deviation from 
perfect straightness in a line that is defective. 

The investigation of sense-capacity should be complete, 
embracing the muscular sense as entering into the apprecia- 
tion of weight, etc. And along with discriminative sensi- 
bility should be measured absolute sensibility. Here 
again the idea of a threshold is available. Thus Mr. Gal- 
ton proposes, for testing the absolute sensibility of the ear 
to sound, the simple expedient of estimating the greatest 
distance at which the ticking of a watch can be heard. 
And, lastly, as bearing on the emotional or pleasure-and- 
pain side of the senses, the child's sense-organs should be 
tested as to the strength of stimulus, e. g., light or sound, 
which begins to be disagreeable and fatiguing. 

Next to a systematic testing of sensibility and, along 
with this, of muscular capacity, the educator should go on 
to estimate differences in the power of attention. Thus 
precision and rapidity of adjustment in attention, an all- 
important quality in the capacity of learning readily, might 
be tested by aid of giving some momentary signal, the 
nature and exact time of which are not known beforehand, 
e. g., an indeterminate letter of the alphabet articulated 
faintly or exhibited to the eye for a second, and noting the 
relative degrees of certainty in seeing the signal. Along 
with this, another no less valuable quality of attention, 
range or grasp, may easily be tested, e. g., by determining 
the greatest number of consecutive sounds, as letters or 
digits, that can be held together by the mind, so as to be 
repeated or written down on a single hearing, or the 
largest number of letters that can be seen by a momentary 
exhibition to the eye of a miscellaneous group of such. 

Closely connected with this power of grasping a num- 

Album " (Macmillan & Co.), by asking a person to pick out all the 
greens among a series of delicately tinted wools, involves not only dis- 
crimination but assimilation. 



MEASUREMENT OF FACULTY. 



413 



ber of impressions is the aptitude known as quickness or 
keenness of observation. In an interesting paper on the 
"Condition of Pupil," read some years ago before the 
Education Society, Mr. Lake proposed that this faculty 
might be tested by bringing children for a moment or two 
into an unfamiliar room, bidding them note as much as 
they can, and immediately afterward setting them to write 
down all they have observed.* 

It is hardly necessary to say that the quality of reten- 
tiveness is one which specially needs to be measured by 
the teacher, and this, like discrimination, in all its special 
manifestations. And here again an approach to scientific 
precision is possible by making use of a limit. Thus chil- 
dren might be tested as to the number of repetitions of 
lines necessary to retaining them both for a shorter and 
for a longer period, f In a series of examinations of this 
kind it might be ascertained in what special directions a 
child's mind was retentive, and what modes of association 
(e. g., order in time and order in space) were most easily 
acquired. 

In connection with retentiveness, imaginative power, as 
shown in the distinctness and fullness of images of familiar 
objects and scenes, should be tested. Mr. Galton's in- 
quiries into the powers of individuals of " visualizing " ob- 
jects might easily be made the starting-point in such an 
investigation of children's faculty .% 

* Such an exercise, as has been pointed out by Mrs. Bryant, may be 
used to test not only rapidity and grasp of mind, but readiness in the 
imaginative interpretation of impressions which form so important a 
constituent in the faculty of observation, and also the strength and in- 
fluence of the feelings in disposing the mind to a vague, emotional 
way of regarding things. 

f Mr. Lake proposed that series of names and connected words be 
read out three times by the master, and others read by the pupil three 
times, and then written down, and the number of errors counted. 

\ Mr. Galton's method is explained in his work "Inquiries into 
Human Faculty," p. 83, and following. 



4 I4 APPENDIX B. 

Lastly, reference may be made to that intellectual 
function which forms the essential element in the general- 
izing faculty, viz., the detection of similarity amid diversity. 
This is best tested by getting a child to compare a number 
of objects simultaneously presented to the eye. Thus Mr t 
Lake has suggested that groups of letters agreeing in cer- 
tain respects, e. g., thickness of line, degree of blackness, 
should be submitted to the pupil with a view to his discov- 
ering in what respects they agree. Here, it is evident, the 
sense of difference as well as that of likeness will be ap- 
pealed to, and it is very important to note the pupil's rela- 
tive quickness in noting the one and the other. * 

This much may suffice to show that a sound scientific 
method of testing the strength of children's intellectual 
faculties has now become possible. It is greatly to be 
wished that by the co-operation of teachers and psycholo- 
gists a definite scheme of measuring faculty may soon be 
developed. 

* I have attempted to frame a definite line of investigation into 
the strength of the comparing faculty in an article on " Comparison." 
" Mind," October, 1885. 



